[See  p.  40 


GUESS    NOT,'    AND    HE    KISSED    HER 


SAMPSON    ROCK 


OF     WALL     STREET 


B 


BY 
E  DWI  N     LE  FEVRE 

AUTHOR  OF 
"  WALL  STREET  STORIES  " 

"THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK   AND    LONDON 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 
MCMVU 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
THB  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 


Copyright,  1907,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  February,  1907. 


TO  MY  FRIEND 
NATHAN   MUNROE   FLOWER 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"'l    GUESS    NOT,'    AND    HE    KISSED    HER*'    ....  Frontif piece 

"'DAD,'  HE  SAID,  'I'VE  BEEN  THINKING'"  .     .     .  Facing  p.   92 

"'IT    OUGHT    TO    CROSS    THIRTY-NINE!"'       ....  126 

'"THE  ROANOKE  is  ACCUSED,  TOO,'  POINTED  OUT 

SAM"                                        "        272 


SAMPSON    ROCK 
OF    WALL    STREET 


THE  stock-ticker  in  Sampson  Rock's  private  office 
had  been  whirring  away  half  an  hour  when  Rock's 
cashier  entered  the  room  to  lay  on  the  desk  a  bulky 
letter.  It  was  marked  in  one  corner,  "Personal — 
Important"  heavily  underscored.  For  additional  em 
phasis  there  was  a  rough  drawing  of  a  hand,  the  dexter 
finger  rigidly  pointing  cornerward;  all  of  which  gave 
the  cashier  no  concern — he  was  accustomed  to  seeing 
Personal  and  Urgent  and  Important  on  envelopes  ad 
dressed  to  Mr.  Sampson  Rock.  What  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  was  the  empty  room  at  half -past  ten. 

"I  wonder  what's  keeping  the  Old  Man?"  he  mutter 
ed.  He  approached  the  ticker  and  looked  over  the 
tape  with  a  desultory  interest.  "H'm!  61!  I  wonder 
if  I  hadn't  better—" 

" How's  the  market?"  said  a  voice,  sharply.  Mr. 
Rock  threw  a  bundle  of  newspapers  on  a  chair  and  took 
the  tape  which  Valentine  silently  held  out  to  him. 
Nothing  that  Valentine  could  say  would  be  as  illumina 
tive  as  three  or  four  inches  of  the  little  paper  ribbon. 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

A  foot  was  a  book ;  a  yard,  a  history.  Valentine  couldn't 
read  the  tape  that  way,  but  he  knew  Rock  did. 

"Surface  cars — blocked  an  hour  on  Broadway!"  ex 
plained  Rock,  irritably.  He  came  upon  a  quotation 
of  the  stock  of  the  guilty  Cosmopolitan  Traction  Com 
pany.  It  made  him  say  to  Valentine,  savagely :  "Sell 
a  thousand  Cosmopolitan  at  the  market.  .  It's  165. 
Wretched  service!" 

"Yes,  sir."  Valentine  turned  to  go,  thinking  a 
shade  enviously  of  the  ways  in  which  a  rich  man  could 
gratify  revenge  against  offending  corporations — to  wit, 
by  selling  their  stocks  short — when  Rock  said,  "Send 
for  Dunlap,  and  get  me  the  last  Cosmopolitan  Traction 
annual  report." 

He  had  not  stopped  looking  over  the  tape,  reading 
backward,  until  he  had  seen  how  the  market  had  gone 
from  the  opening.  After  a  final  glance  at  the  very  last 
quotation  or  two  which  the  little  machine  had  printed 
while  he  was  studying  the  beginning,  he  walked,  frown 
ing,  to  his  desk.  The  long  blue  envelope  marked 
"Personal — Important11  lay  on  the  top  of  the  mound 
of  the  morning's  mail.  He  opened  it  and  read  the 
type-written  pages  with  the  closest  attention.  It  was 
a  copy  of  the  report  which  an  expert  railroad  accountant 
had  made  on  the  financial  and  physical  condition  of  the 
Virginia  Central  Railroad  for  a  committee  of  English 
bondholders,  who  were  fearful  that  the  optimism  of 
Colonel  Robinson,  the  president  of  the  road,  was  too 
American  for  British  consumption. 

Rock,  for  some  months,  had  been  so  nearly  certain 
that  he  needed  the  Virginia  Central  to  round  out  his 
own  Roanoke  system,  that  he  had  sent  out  experts  to 
report  in  great  detail  on  the  physical  condition  of  the 
property,  and  to  determine  the  feasibility  and  cost  of  a 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

connecting  line,  while  others  were  analyzing  the  com 
pany's  annual  reports  for  years  back,  supplementing 
the  official  figures  with  confidential  information  ob 
tained  from  one  of  the  underpaid  book-keepers  of  the 
Virginia  Central.  Williams,  the  accountant,  unaided 
and  alone,  doubtless  hindered  at  every  step  by  a 
management  conscious  of  its  own  shortcomings,  had 
learned  as  much  as  Rock's  experts  had  with  the  aid  of 
the  bribed  book-keeper,  and,  moreover,  he  had  taken 
precisely  the  same  view  of  the  grossly  mismanaged  road 
and  of  its  great  possibilites  that  Rock  did.  Therefore 
Williams  must  be  bought  and  paid  for.  He  had  suc 
cumbed  to  the  Old  Man's  insidious  flattery  and  had 
sent  him  the  report,  in  order  that  the  Old  Man  might 
realize  that  Williams  was  the  best  man  in  his  line  in 
the  country.  He  could  not  be  cheap,  for  he  was  not 
only  intelligent,  but,  to  boot,  honest.  However,  no 
price  would  be  too  high  to  pay  the  man  who  had  saved 
Rock  months  of  valuable  time  by  makng  the  great 
captain  of  finance  realize  definitely  now  that  Williams 
was  a  wonder,  and  also  that  the  Virginia  Central  must 
be  benevolently  assimilated  by  the  Roanoke.  The 
Virginia  Central  and  its  owners  did  not  yet  know  it. 

Rock's  friends  often  spoke  of  his  habit  of  thinking 
in  lightning  flashes,  of  the  marvellous  quickness  with 
which  he  abandoned  old  and  settled  on  new  policies, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  systematic,  von  Moltke- 
like  manner  in  which  he  planned  some  of  his  market 
campaigns.  In  their  heart  of  hearts  they  sometimes 
doubted  that  any  human  mind  could  think  so  much  and 
so  quickly,  or  see  so  far  and  so  clearly.  Their  minds  did 
not.  Therefore  they  half  thought  that  Rock  often 
closed  his  eyes,  jumped,  and  landed  safely  on  a  gold 
en  feather-bed,  compelling  fortune's  smiles  by  sheer 

3 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

audacity.  But  it  was  not  difficult  for  Rock  to  know, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  what  to  think  or  what  to 
vision  to  himself  and  why.  His  untiring  patience  in 
the  conduct  of  the  subsequent  campaign,  and  his  final 
success  so  deliberately  led  up  to,  alone  shook  his 
friends'  confidence  in  the  "blind  plunge"  theory. 

And  this  particular  plunge  was  not  blind.  Williams, 
in  addition  to  telling  in  how  poor  a  condition,  physical 
and  financial,  the  Virginia  Central  was,  proceeded  to 
show  how  the  one  hope  of  the  English  bondholders' 
committee  lay  in  building  an  extension;  not  to  Biddle- 
boro,  to  connect  with  the  Roanoke,  as  Rock  planned, 
but  to  Franklyn,  to  connect  with  the  South  Atlantic 
branch  of  the  Great  Southern — the  Roanoke 's  power 
ful  rival.  The  stock  had  been  strong  lately,  and  the 
Street  listlessly  thought  that  possibly  President  Robin 
son  expected  to  succeed  in  raising  the  needed  capital  in 
London.  But  Rock  had  taken  pains  that  it  should  not 
be  active  enough  to  make  it  an  attractive  gamble. 
Men  should  help  their  fellows,  and  Rock  felt  that  poor, 
harassed  Robinson  might  spare  himself  further  anxiety 
about  that  English  capital  and  the  Virginia  Central. 
He  decided  to  take  Robinson's  burden  of  care  and 
worry  on  his  own  broad  shoulders.  Ungrateful  Robin 
son,  when  Robinson  should  discover  the  philanthropy! 

Sampson  Rock  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  His  eyes 
were  half  closed.  The  accountant's  report  was  on  the 
desk  before  him,  open  at  the  last  page,  but  he  did  not 
see  it.  The  ticker  was  tinklingly  promising  golden 
coins,  but  he  did  not  hear  it.  What  he  saw  was  a  range 
of  hills;  there  were  some  black  holes — mouths  of  tun 
nels  leading  into  rich  bituminous  mines  that  were  not 
half  busy  enough;  what  he  heard  was  the  rumble  of  a 
train  of  loaded  cars  that  was  not  half  long  nor  half 

4 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

heavy  enough — the  unexploited  mineral  wealth  of  a  vast 
section  of  territory  and  the  criminal  negligence  of  a 
mismanaged  railroad.  Beyond  the  range  of  hills  was  a 
system  of  veritable  Himalayas  of  limestone,  and  beyond 
them  huge  deposits  of  iron  ore.  With  a  little  more 
heat  and  a  little  closer  proximity  to  the  limestone  and 
to  the  coal  the  iron  almost  would  have  smelted  itself 
into  high-grade  pigs — only  the  pigs  in  Virginia  Central 
were  also  asses.  The  control  of  the  road,  an  extension 
to  Biddleboro  to  connect  with  his  own  Roanoke  & 
Western  subsidiary  companies  to  exploit  the  mineral 
and  agricultural  territory  thus  far  untapped,  a  merger, 
a  first-class  system  controlled  by  Sampson  Rock,  a  big 
bull  campaign  in  the  stock-market,  permanently  es 
tablishing  the  credit  of  his  own  securities  on  an  invest 
ment  plane,  and — 

He  awoke.  His  eyes,  wide  open  now,  took  on  a 
curious,  alert  look. 

' '  H  'm !  It  bears  out  Morson ' ' — his  chief  expert ,  who 
had  been  studying  the  same  proposition  from  Rock's 
more  practical,  or,  possibly,  more  piratical,  point  of 
view.  He  must  turn  Morson  loose  again — this  time 
to  secure  options  on  iron -mines  and  coal -lands  and 
quarries  and  water-rights,  in  the  interest  of  the  yet 
unborn  Old  Dominion  Development  Company.  The 
Roanoke  &  Western  would  guarantee  the  Development 
Company  bonds,  thereby  making  them  easily  vend 
ible.  That  would  supply  the  necessary  capital.  The 
Development  stock  would  be  called  water;  but  it  was 
Rock's  wager  on  the  future  growth  of  industrial  Vir 
ginia,  and  sixty  per  cent,  of  that  water  would  be  Rock's; 
also,  all  the  credit,  later,  for  the  modern  miracle  of 
turning  water  into  gold.  But  that  was  merely  a  "side 
issue."  The  deal  itself  would  at  once  enhance  the 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

value  of  his  Roanoke  holdings.    That  meant  more  mill 
ions — real  millions — and  more  work;  and  more  power. 

Rock  pushed  one  of  a  row  of  buttons  on  his  desk. 
While  he  waited  for  Valentine  he  looked  over  the  rest 
of  his  correspondence,  reading  the  letters  at  a  glance. 
Most  of  them  he  threw  into  the  waste-paper  basket — 
one  he  tore  into  bits  before  so  doing;  two  he  laid  aside, 
writing  undermost;  the  remainder  he  initialled,  or 
scribbled  on  them  a  word  or  two,  and  placed  them  on 
the  top  of  the  desk  to  be  answered  and  filed.  No  busi 
ness  literature  was  ever  allowed  to  accumulate.  Even 
the  letters  from  beggars  and  cranks  were  promptly  an 
swered  by  the  secretary,  or  by  him  referred  to  the 
proper  man  for  reply.  Rock  never  dictated  any  letters 
until  after  ticker  hours.  But  when  he  left  for  the  day 
not  a  scrap  of  paper  remained  on  his  desk.  And  he 
never  philosophized  about  it. 

Valentine  entered. 

"Telephone  to  Walter  Williams  to  come  over  at  once. 
Take  him  into  the  last  room.  Tell  Dunlap  to  come 
over  in  five  minutes.  I'll  see  him  after  I'm  done  with 
Williams." 

The  last  room  was  at  the  end  of  the  corridor — No. 
888 — the  last  of  the  suite  occupied  by  Rock.  It  was 
the  next  but  one  to  the  private  office.  It  was  there 
that  Rock  received  callers  whom  he  did  not  wish  any 
one  else  in  the  office  to  see.  His  best  friends  never 
went  into  any  other  room.  His  worst  enemies  also  had 
called  at  888  on  occasion. 

"Yes,  sir.  Here's  the  Cosmopolitan  report,  and  a 
telegram." 

"From  whom?" 

Valentine  handed  the  telegram  in  silence  and  laid 
the  report  on  the  desk.  Rock  read  the  message. 

6 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"It's  from  Sam.     His  boat's  at  Quarantine." 

"That's  nice."  Valentine  looked  pleased.  Rock 
looked  instead  at  his  watch. 

"She  ought  to  dock  in  a  half -hour.  H'm!"  His 
only  son  was  returning  from  a  trip  around  the  world 
after  an  absence  of  eighteen  months.  Rock  saw  the 
smile  on  his  cashier's  face.  It  struck  him  that  he 
ought  to  smile  too.  This  made  him  frown.  He  said, 
impatiently,  "Tell  Morson  to  meet  Sam  at  the  dock, 
American  Line,  and  bring  him  up  here."  He  added, 
with  a  curious,  half  -  defiant,  half  -  apologetic  air.  "I 
must  see  Williams  at  once." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Valentine  that  Rock,  who  had  not 
seen  his  only  son  in  a  year  and  a  half,  should  be  apolo 
getic  about  a  few  minutes  more  or  less.  He  went  out 
quickly  to  carry  out  the  Old  Man's  commands. 

Rock  walked  to  the  ticker.  As  he  looked  the  tape 
over  he  saw  "  1000  CT  164!."  It  was  possibly  the  one 
thouand  shares  of  Cosmopolitan  Traction  he  did  not 
own  but  had  spitefully  sold  because  of  his  delay  that 
morning.  There  are  profits  and  profits;  the  more  the 
merrier.  It  reminded  him  of  the  annual  report  on  his 
desk.  He  sat  down  again  and  read  it,  frowning.  The 
revenge  should  be  profitable,  otherwise  he  would  for 
give.  As  he  finished,  his  brow  cleared  and  a  good- 
humored  look  replaced  the  frown.  It  was  as  he  had 
thought.  The  stock  was  too  high.  The  brazen  ma 
nipulation  of  his  semi  -  occasional  friend  Judson,  the 
street-railway  magnate,  had  put  up  the  price,  but  the 
road  itself  was  not  gaining.  It  had,  quite  obviously 
to  Rock,  whose  expert  eye  could  read  between  the  lines 
of  the  report,  reached  the  limit  of  its  prosperity  by 
reaching  the  limit  of  its  facilities.  It  was  a  physical 
impossibility  to  do  more  business.  But  its  operating 

7 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

expenses  and  fixed  charges  had  gone  soaring,  owing  to 
losing  lines  which  the  inside  crowd  had  bought  cheap 
and  sold  dear — to  their  own  company.  These  lines 
must  be  "modernized."  That  would  mean  more  graft, 
and  more  graft  would  tell  on  the  stock  in  the  end,  how 
ever  skilfully  Judson  manipulated  it  now,  in  trying 
to  unload  before  the  community  discovered  the  out 
rageous  over-capitalization.  Judson  was  unintelligent- 
ly  optimistic;  his  version  of  Lincoln's  aphorism  was 
that  he  could  fool  all  the  people  all  the  time.  There 
fore  Rock  smiled — if  it  had  not  been  for  the  delay  on 
Broadway  he  never  would  have  thought  of  selling  the 
stock  short — and  rang  for  Valentine.  There  were  half 
a  dozen  telephones  on  a  long  table  at  one  end  of  the 
room;  those  were  for  his  confidential  brokers,  and  went 
to  their  offices,  according  to  the  rules,  but  were  so  ar 
ranged  that  they  could  be  switched  on  to  the  lines  that 
went  to  the  Board  Room  —  the  "floor"  of  the  Stock 
Exchange.  Ordinary  orders  in  ordinary  stocks  he  let 
Valentine  give  out  for  him  to  the  office's  routine 
brokers,  as  Dunlap  called  them. 

"  Valentine,  sell  four  thousand  Cosmopolitan  more, 
at  the  market.  It  may  take  some  months,  but  we'll 
buy  it  back  at  125.  Keep  track  of  it."  He  had  no 
bear  campaign  in  mind.  It  was  merely  an  investment 
on  the  short  side,  and  he  immediately  dismissed  it  from 
his  thoughts.  If,  on  the  way  to  the  big  gold-mine,  he 
saw  a  few  coins  on  the  path,  he  picked  them  up — it  did 
not  delay  or  distract — and  walked  on. 

"Yes,  sir."  Valentine  decided  that  the  Old  Man 
was  still  angry  at  the  delay.  Somehow  the  Old  Man 
had  a  habit  of  turning  even  his  anger  into  dollars — 
fancy  a  drunkard  getting  paid  for  getting  drunk! 
Lucky  people,  these  stock-gambling  captains  of  finance, 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

thought  Valentine,  with  keen  regret  that  the  Old  Man 
had  said  it  would  take  months  to  cash  in.  If  he  had 
said  days,  or  even  weeks,  Valentine  himself  would  have 
sold  short  one  hundred  shares.  To  get  rich  is  pleasant ; 
to  get  rich  quick  is  heaven,  but  takes  capital.  There 
were  many  Valentines  in  Wall  Street,  also  in  the  United 
States.  They  thought  the  same  thing — no  brains  and 
no  expert  knowledge  needed,  only  money  and  patience. 
Lacking  capital,  patience  was  slow  death,  unless  there 
was  luck.  Even  then,  Rock  would  be  lucky  merely 
because  Rock  had  money.  His  short  sale  of  Cosmo 
politan  Traction,  so  obviously  prompted  by  nothing 
but  petulant  spite,  would  make  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  walk  by  themselves  into  Rock's  pocket,  to  pay 
for  the  twenty  minutes  lost  on  Broadway.  Ten  thou 
sand  dollars  a  minute  that  would  be,  because  Rock  was 
rich — Valentine  was  logical. 

A  moment  afterwards  the  cashier  announced  that 
Mr.  Williams  was  in  the  secret  room,  which  a  facetious 
accomplice  of  Rock's  had  once  dubbed  the  pool-in 
cubator  and  scheme-hatchery. 

The  best  railroad  accountant  in  the  United  States 
was  a  short,  slim  man,  utterly  bald,  with  a  Vandyke 
beard  and  sharp  gray  eyes.  Habitually  he  looked  an 
gry,  as  if  the  incompetence  of  book-keepers  annoyed 
him.  Moreover,  the  devices  some  railroad  financiers 
adopted  to  mislead  the  public  were  so  transparent  as  to 
be  an  insult  to  the  eagle  eye  of  Mr.  Walter  Williams, 
licensed  public  accountant,  forty  years  old,  and  not  yet 
a  millionaire.  But  with  visions — visions! 

"Good-morning,  Williams,"  said  Rock,  with  an  affa 
bility  that  was  not  excessive.  He  could  be  very 
affable  at  times,  even  to  newspaper  reporters.  His 
face,  however,  was  expressionless  as  he  went  on:  "I 

9 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

have  read  the  report.  It  is  a  good  piece  of  work; 
but—" 

Williams's  face  became  at  once  defiant.  He  allowed 
no  "buts,"  and  he  half  repented  now  having  been 
persuaded  to  send  the  copy  of  the  masterpiece  to 
Rock. 

"But  you  cannot  send  it  to  London."  Rock  spoke 
very  evenly,  very  dispassionately.  His  eyes  looked 
neither  alert  nor  sleepy — the  eyes  of  an  ordinarily  in 
telligent  man  speaking  to  a  friend  about  an  every 
day  matter  regarding  which  both  were  of  the  same 
mind.  Further  discussion  would  absurdly  exaggerate 
the  importance  of  it. 

On  Williams's  face  the  defiance  rose  to  anger,  and  he 
said,  scowling: 

"Why  not?" 

He  was  bitterly  sorry  that  he  had  been  unfaithful  to 
his  employers  in  allowing  this  stock  -  gambler,  mas 
querading  as  a  railroad  magnate,  to  see  the  report  as 
soon  as  it  had  been  completed.  The  Old  Man  had 
admired  his  work — -which  tickled  his  artistic  vanity — 
and  had,  moreover,  promised  to  turn  Williams  loose 
on  the  books  of  the  so-called  "Rock  roads,"  which 
would  help  the  bank  account.  Williams  sincerely 
thought  his  mission  in  life  was  to  teach  corporations 
how  to  conduct  their  business  and  keep  their  books 
honestly,  but  above  all  scientifically.  Brooding  on  the 
obvious  designs  of  a  higher  power  Walter  Williams  had 
chloroformed  his  sense  of  humor. 

"Because  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  wait  a  little." 
Rock's  voice  and  manner  had  not  changed. 

"/  don't,"  retorted  Williams,  brusquely. 

Rock  smiled  a  trifle  as  he  said:  "Williams,  it's 
going  to  make  them  feel  so  good,  when  they  do  get  it, 

10 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

that  a  few  weeks'  delay  won't  hurt."  His  voice  was 
full  of  good-humor. 

"They  expect  me  to  mail  it  this  week." 

"Cable  that  you  need  to  verify  some  figures." 

"My  figures  never  need  verification,  Mr.  Rock." 
His  manner  was  coldly  austere. 

"That's  why  I  am  here  trying  to  do  you  a  good  turn. 
You  must  wait."  Mr.  Rock's  look  now  was  full  of 
friendliness.  He  did  not  yet  know  the  accountant's 
price,  but  was  reading  the  quotations  on  the  account 
ant's  vanity.  He  did  not  despise  the  accountant  for 
having  it,  because  Williams  also  had  the  peculiar 
ability  of  the  expert  to  a  remarkable  degree,  and  he 
understood  scientific  railroading  in  the  abstract. 
Rock  could  utilize  his  critical  and  analytical  gifts,  and 
would  gladly  pay  for  them.  Sometimes  theorists' 
suggestions  could  be  carried  out  with  profit.  This 
theorist  must  make  no  suggestions  to  Rock's  com 
petitors.  Like  charity,  the  profit  should  begin  at  home. 

"Impossible!"  said  Williams.  There  was  finality  in 
his  tone.  Few  people  spoke  that  way  to  Rock.  It 
would  have  made  a  saint  angry,  also  a  sinner,  but  not 
Rock.  Yet  Rock  deliberately  asked: 

"To  how  many  people  have  you  shown  the  report, 
Williams?" 

The  accountant  flushed  angrily.  "Only  you,"  he 
growled,  "and  I'm  sorry  I've — " 

"I'm  not,  and  you  won't  be  either.  How  much  of 
the  stock  have  you  bought  ?" 

"Why  must  I  have  bought  any?"  Williams  sneered. 

But  Rock,  who  was  looking  at  him  meditatively,  saw 
the  merest  gleam  of  a  fleeting  uneasiness  in  the  ac 
countant's  sharp  gray  eyes,  and  he  answered,  calmly: 
"You  wouldn't  be  human  if  you  hadn't,  knowing  what 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

you  do.  Now,  let  me  give  you  some  friendly  ad 
vice,  Williams.  You  sell  what  you  have  bought, 
and—" 

"How  do  you — "  began  Williams,  still  stubbornly 
defiant. 

"My  suspicious  nature,  I  suppose,"  said  Rock,  with 
a  touch  of  resignation  in  his  voice.  "Look  here, 
Williams" — there  was  an  air  of  conscious  patience 
about  him  as  he  went  on — "that  stock  is  going  down." 
Williams  could  be  of  use  to  him  in  several  ways.  He 
saw  what  position  the  accountant  could  fill.  Frank 
ness  now  was  merely  an  advance  payment. 

"But  it  won't  stay  down.  You  can't  keep  it  down. 
Why,  if  Robinson  wasn't  such  an  ass — " 

Rock  interrupted  the  accountant. 

"Does  he  know  what  your  report — " 

The  accountant  interrupted  Rock:  "No,  we  didn't 
get  on.  The  London  people  don't  love  him,  and  he 
knows  it,  and  he  thinks  I  will  make  my  report  un 
favorable  in  order  to  please  my  clients  who  don't  trust 
him.  He  tried  to  put  obstacles  in  my  way.  The 
ass  !  Why,  if  he  knew  how  to  run  a  railroad,  that 
stock—" 

"Precisely.  But  he  doesn't."  Into  Rock's  eyes 
came  a  look  alert,  aggressive,  that  sparkled  with  a 
living  intelligence,  the  look  of  a  man  who  both  thinks 
and  fights,  who  both  dreams  and  does.  Williams, 
whose  fear  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  his  purchase 
of  Virginia  Central  stock  made  him  sharp-eyed,  saw  it, 
and  the  frown  on  his  face  disappeared.  Rock  went 
on,  his  voice  not  less  kindly  but  more  commanding,  be 
cause  he  had  estimated  the  accountant's  price  and  the 
value  of  services  present  and  prospective:  "Sell  that 
.stock  at  once.  I'll  tell  you  when  to  buy  it  back.  It's 

•  12 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

going  down,  and  going  down  fast.  That  report  is 
merely  delayed  in  transmission — see?  Don't  argue. 
When  the  time  is  ripe  you  can  buy  five  thousand  shares 
in  this  office.  Don't  worry  about  the  margin.  This  is  a 
personal  matter  between  you  and  me.  But  that  report 
is  not  mailed  until  I  tell  you." 

Some  things  lose  nothing  by  repetition.  The  exact 
amount  of  the  bribe  is  one  of  them.  Rock  added,  aiming 
straight  at  the  breach  in  the  fortifications:  "The  day 
you  mail  it  you  buy  five  thousand  shares.  I  guarantee 
that  the  price  will  be  lower  than  it  is  to-day.  That 
same  day  you  start  on  the  books  of  the  Roanoke  & 
Western  at  your  own  price.  I'll  have  a  good  deal  of 
work  for  you  all  this  year  and  next." 

A  flash  burned  in  Williams 's  eyes.  He  saw  at  a  glance 
what  Rock's  scheme  would  be — to  acquire  the  control 
of  the  Virginia  Central  in  the  open  market.  To  do  this 
cheaply  he  would  depress  the  price  of  the  shares.  That 
was  as  2  +  2=4.  Then  the  price  would  rise  as  he 
bought  it  in  bulk;  and  then,  once  the  control  was  in  his 
possession,  the  price  would  rise  still  more,  just  before 
Mr.  Sampson  Rock,  the  daring  individual  speculator, 
sold  the  entire  block  to  Mr.  Sampson  Rock,  the  con 
servative  chairman  of  the  executive  committee  of  the 
Roanoke  &  Western  Railroad.  That  was  as  4+4=8. 
Efficiency  was  Williams's  monomania,  and  Rock,  he 
saw  with  sympathetic  enthusiasm,  was  highly  efficient. 
Also,  being  an  expert  accountant,  Williams,  in  less  than 
three  seconds,  figured  that  he  himself  stood  to  win  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  on  that  deal;  and  more,  if  he 
could  be  useful  to  Rock  later.  He  was  an  honest  man 
— that  was  why  Rock  had  not  dreamed  of  asking  him 
to  "doctor"  the  report — and  with  praiseworthy  en 
thusiasm,  but  too  quick  at  ticker  arithmetic  for  his 

13 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

own  good.  He  controlled  his  exultation  and  abjectly 
apologized  to  himself  for  what  he  was  going  to  do  by 
saying,  with  a  carefully  calculated  shake  of  the  head 
and  a  dubious  tone  of  voice,  "Well,  Mr.  Rock,  I — " 

"Yes,  Williams:  it's  all  right.  I'll  give  you  five 
minutes  to  sell  your  Virginia  Central.  You  need  not 
go  short — if  you  don't  wish  to."  Rock  said  this  very 
deliberately.  He  knew  what  Williams  would  wish, 
therefore  he  finished,  "Not  too  much  of  it;  just  enough 
for  pocket-money." 

Williams  was  human.  He  said:  "I'm  very  much 
obliged,  Mr.  Rock.  I—" 

"Don't  mention  it.  Remember,  in  five  minutes 
Virginia  Central  begins  to  decline.  If  you've  told 
any  of  your  friends  it  was  a  good  thing,  it  might  be  only 
fair  to  warn  them  to  get  out."  It  was  a  very  nice 
touch.  Williams  felt  that  the  Old  Man  had  a  heart. 
The  Old  Man  knew  Williams  would  think  so ;  he  also 
knew  that  if  he  did  not  advise  Williams  to  tell  his 
friends,  Williams,  being  a  decent  chap,  still  would  do 
it.  And  after  a  judicious  pause  Rock  added:  "But 
be  discreet.  No  details  to  anybody.  And  quick,  Will 
iams."  It  takes  genius  to  advise  a  man  who  is  in  a 
hurry  to  get  rich  to  make  haste  about  it. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Rock,"  repeated  the  accountant, 
his  burning  desire  to  run  out  of  the  room  making  his 
voice  sound  husky  as  if  with  grateful  emotions.  Samp 
son  Rock  considerately  held  the  door  open  for  the 
ticker-stricken  man,  and  said:  "Any  time  you  have 
anything  you  think  I  ought  to  know,  come  and  see  me. 
And  remember,  Williams,  I  trust  you,"  he  finished 
sternly,  yet  not  unkindly. 

Rock  did  not  so  much  think  that  every  man  had  his 
price  as  that  devotion,  personal  and  impersonal,  like 

14 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

everything  else  in  this  world,  must  be  paid  for.  He 
was  not  yet  rich  enough  to  have  lost  the  sense  of  pro 
portion.  He  made  money  for  others  in  order  that  he 
might  make  money  for  himself.  He  was  a  highly  in 
telligent  man. 


II 

STILL  looking  as  if  he  trusted  Williams,  Sampson 
Rock  went  to  the  front  office.  He  approached 
the  ticker  and  gazed  intently  on  the  printed  letters  and 
numbers  of  the  tape — so  intently  that  they  ceased  to 
be  numerals  and  became  living  figures.  Williams  was 
ten  million  leagues  away,  and  Rock's  vision  leaped  from 
New  York  to  Richmond,  from  Richmond  to  Biddleboro, 
from  Biddleboro  back  to  the  glittering  marble-and-gold 
Board  Room  of  the  Stock  Exchange.  The  tape-charac 
ters  were  like  little  soldier-ants,  bringing  precious  loads 
to  this  New  York  office,  tiny  gold  nuggets  from  a 
thousand  stockholders,  men  and  women  and  children, 
rich  and  poor,  to  the  feet  of  Sampson  Rock.  It  may 
be  there  would  be  shrieks  and  sobs,  pain-squeals  and 
imprecations;  but  they  would  not  reach  the  ears  of  a 
man  whose  soul  had  soared  so  high  that  the  entire 
State  of  Virginia  was  spread  before  him  in  miniature, 
like  an  outrolled  map,  glowing  and  glittering  poly- 
chromatically  in  a  flood  of  sunshine.  And  through  this 
map  ran  a  line,  not  a  ticker-tape,  with  towns  instead 
of  abbreviations  or  bridges  instead  of  dashes,  but  a 
vein ;  and  it  was  not  a  vein  of  human  blood  or  of  human 
tears,  but  of  human  sweat,  a  living  thing,  born  of  work, 
stretching  tentacle-like  arms  everywhither,  reaching 
to  every  corner  of  the  State  of  Virginia,  to  the  great 
Atlantic;  and  more  faintly,  the  same  net-work  of  life- 

'  16 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

giving  and  life-creating  veins  extending  to  the  Great 
River  and  the  Great  Lakes,  and  perhaps — if  Sampson 
Rock  lived  long  enough  to  realize  the  dream  of  every 
railroad  emperor — even  unto  the  golden  remote  Far 
West  and  the  blue  Pacific — from  ocean  to  ocean. 

But  how  to  bring  all  that  to  him?  .  .  .  Those  little' 
soldier-ants  on  the  tape  must  be  trained  to  march,  gold- 
laden,  Sampson  Rockward.  They  would,  little  by 
little,  make  a  vast  mountain,  and  that  mountain  would 
turn  the  dreams  into  realities — not  gold,  but  life,  would 
Sampson  Rock  give  to  his  fellow-men.  The  gold  he 
would  keep — gold  meant  so  little  to  them  who  only 
dreamed,  so  much  to  one  who  dreamed  and  also  did!  .  .  . 

Order  out  of  chaos,  a  definite  plan  unravelled  from 
the  tangled  sunbeams — it  would  not  be  difficult.  He 
knew  exactly  what  he  wished  to  do.  That  was  a  great 
deal  to  start  with;  it  was  about  ten  million  dollars' 
worth  more  than  the  disorganized  and  leaderless  mob 
who  still  owned  the  Virginia  Central  knew.  And  so, 
the  Virginia  sunshine  dimmed,  and  the  visions  faded, 
and  in  the  place  of  the  poet  that  had  been  dreaming  in 
the  office — the  poet  whose  numbers  were  of  railroad 
tonnage — there  returned  to  the  side  of  the  ticker  a 
calculating  machine,  all  steel — thoughts  and  desires 
and  purpose  all  of  the  temper  of  steel.  It  was  good 
advice  a  great  man  had  given  to  an  expert  accountant 
in  bidding  him  sell  out  his  Virginia  Central  stock,  not 
because  it  was  too  dear,  but  because  it  was  too  cheap! 

He  walked  into  the  customers'  room.  Rock  made 
his  "headquarters"  with  the  firm  of  Daniel  G.  Dunlap 
&  Co.,  having  separate  though  adjoining  offices,  and 
keeping  his  own  set  of  book-keepers.  The  Roanoke 
&  Western  offices  were  on  the  floor  below.  What  he 
said  was  law,  however,  whether  Mr.  Dunlap  was  present 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

or  not,  and  the  Street,  as  well  as  the  office,  so  under 
stood.  The  firm  did  a  good  business  because  it  was 
strong  and  was  supposed  to  be  "next  to  Rock."  But 
it  really  had  outgrown  a  general  commission  business 
because  Rock  and  his  pools  insured  prosperity.  Dun- 
lap  was  courteous  enough  to  the  small  customers,  and 
gave  them  good  service,  but  seldom  gave  what  they 
really  wanted,  which  was  tips.  But  the  small  cus 
tomers  hoped  on;  some  day,  perhaps,  they  would  be 
repaid  for  waiting.  And  so  they  waited,  in  the  mean 
time  getting  their  daily  tips  elsewhere,  even  taking 
them  from  the  newspapers. 

Rock  sought  Valentine,  who  was  employed  by  both 
Dunlap  and  himself  and  received  salaries  from  both. 
He  asked: 

"  Has  the  Wall  Street  News  Agency  man  been  around 
to-day?" 

"Who?     Gilmartin?" 

"Yes." 

"No,  sir;  not  yet." 

"If  he  conies,  send  him  in  to  me."  And  Rock  walk 
ed  back  to  his  private  office.  The  eyes  of  Dunlap's 
customers  who  sat  before  a  huge  quotation-board 
followed  him  yearningly.  If  only  they  had  X-ray 
sight  to  pierce  through  the  Old  Man's  skull  and  read 
in  the  Old  Man's  brain  what  was  good  to  buy,  what  was 
good  to  sell!  It  never  struck  them  that  it  was  a  par 
ticularly  well-shaped  head.  A  demoralizing  thing,  this 
practice  of  holding  the  tape  within  six  inches  of  the 
eyes;  all  they  could  see  after  a  while  was  a  financial 
Moses  smiting  a  rock  with  a  rod  of  gold,  and  a  stream  of 
dollars  gushing  out.  Looking  to  see  exactly  where  to 
place  the  bag  in  order  to  fill  it  quickly — that  strained 
the  eyes  also. 

•i  8 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Rock  was  looking  at  the  ticker  when  Dunlap  en 
tered. 

"Good  -  morning,  Sampson.  Want  to  see  me?" 
Dunlap  was  tall,  stout,  gray-haired,  with  a  small 
mustache  that  drooped  like  a  mandarin's.  He  was 
frowning.  That  meant  nothing.  He  always  frowned, 
even  when  he  made  money.  He  was  somewhat  myopic, 
but  would  not  wear  glasses;  the  frown  had  become 
habitual  from  his  efforts  to  see.  He  was  an  excellent 
broker,  with  a  sort  of  rudimentary  imagination. 

"Yes.  Virginia  Central  is  pretty  high."  Rock  did 
not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  tape. 

"How  do  you  mean  high?"  asked  Dunlap.  He  had 
been  buying  the  stock  for  the  Old  Man  unostentatiously 
for  some  weeks.  The  Old  Man,  therefore,  couldn't 
have  been  bearish  on  it  very  long.  And  even  now  the 
voice  was  not  bearish ;  it  could  not  mean  that  he  really 
wished  to  sell  the  stock,  that  he  had  abandoned  the 
campaign. 

"H-i-g-h,"  spelled  Rock,  looking  up.  He  was  in  a 
cheerful  mood. 

Dunlap  arched  his  eyebrows,  let  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  drop,  and  posed  for  the  statue  of  resignation. 
At  length  he  said,  mournfully: 

"Shoot  ahead." 

"It's  forty-eight,"  said  Rock. 

"Yep." 

"Well,  it  would  look  better  at  thirty-eight  by  the  end 
of  the  week." 

"This  is  Wednesday." 

"Precisely.  That  gives  you  plenty  of  time.  And 
if  you're  real  clever,  Dan,  you'll  have  more  stock  at 
thirty-eight  than  you  have  now." 

"How  much  more?" 

19 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"I'd  begin  buying  on  balance  from  forty-two  down. 
I  want  all  there  is  floating  around.  Let  somebody 
else  clear  for  you.  The  stock  in  the  office  goes  out  with 
a  becoming  blare  of  trumpets.  See  ?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  Dunlap  smiled.  It  was  the  kind  of 
an  order  he  liked — the  War  Office  saying  to  the  general 
in  the  field:  " Go  in  and  win!" — no  handicapping  with 
useless  instructions,  no  hampering  with  unnecessary 
admonitions  from  bureaucrats  who  thought  nobody 
else  knew  anything.  "Go  in  and  win;"  that  was  all! 
It  called  for  the  exercise  of  those  qualities  of  which  he 
was,  mistakenly,  the  proudest.  He  rather  overesti 
mated  them  as  he  underestimated  the  fact  that  much 
of  his  success  as  a  stock  manipulator  was  due  to  the 
great  fortune  of  Sampson  Rock,  which  kept  him  always 
in  ammunition,  and  to  the  guiding  mind,  always  sug 
gesting,  tactfully,  moves  and  counter  -  moves,  more 
vigor  here,  less  dash  there,  feeling  for  weak  spots  every 
where  and  finding  them  and  concentrating  the  attack  on 
those  points.  The  brain  was  Rock's  always ;  but  Dun- 
lap  was  a  good  corps-commander,  and  Rock  knew  his 
strength  and  his  weakness  and  made  the  most  of  the 
one  and  protected  himself  against  the  other. 

Dunlap  said  "Anything  more?"  so  briskly,  yet  so 
obviously  looking  for  a  negative  reply,  that  Rock  smiled 
slightly: 

"No,  Dan;  I  leave  the  details  to  you." 

Dunlap  hurried  out  of  the  office  as  if  he  feared  Rock 
would  change  his  mind.  He  was  at  the  door  when  the 
Old  Man's  voice  made  him  pause,  a  frown  on  his  face: 

"I  say,  Dan!" 

"Yes?" 

"Not  too  violently  at  first." 

"All  right."    And  Dunlap  was  off  to  the  Board  Room 

20 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

to  distribute  selling  orders.  Rock  began  once  more 
to  watch  the  tape.  He  was  now  on  the  march.  His 
vision  was  not  in  Virginia.  He  saw  no  life-giving,  life- 
creating  railroad.  His  mind  had  taken  a  calm  judicial 
attitude.  He  would  see,  coldly,  critically,  how  Dun- 
lap  would  carry  out  his  orders,  ready  to  prevent  mis 
takes  and  to  check  inartistic  excesses.  No  zeal,  no 
fire;  only  intelligence,  dispassionate  as  mathematics. 
The  game  was  indeed  one  of  pure  mathematics  just  now. 
At  the  proper  time  the  game  would  pass  the  mathe 
matical  stage  and  attain  the  psychological.  And  then 
Dunlap  would  get  his  orders  in  words  of  one  syllable, 
to  insure  their  execution  exactly  as  given  by  the  real 
commander-in-chief.  Ethics?  In  that  environment? 

The  door  opened  and  a  short,  pudgy,  red-haired  man 
partly  entered.  He  was  clean-shaven  and  somewhat 
careless  as  to  dress. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Rock,"  he  said,  not  advancing 
an  inch  beyond  the  threshold.  He  was  ready  to  re 
treat  if  Rock's  face  made  it  prudent.  A  few  days  be 
fore  Gilmartin  had  so  retreated. 

"Hello,  Gilmartin!     Come  in.     I  won't  eat  you." 

Gilmartin  entered,  all  smiles.  "No,"  he  said,  "I 
guess  I'm  getting  too  tough  for  that,  living  in  this 
neighborhood.  Anything  new,  Mr.  Rock?" 

Mr.  Rock  shook  his  head.  "N-no,"  he  answered, 
doubtfully,  as  if  he  really  were  trying  to  remember 
something  to  tell  to  the  reporter.  It  was  a  subtle  com 
pliment,  the  admission  of  a  certain  degree  of  intimacy 
and  willingness  to  help.  Gilmartin 's  news-slips  went 
to  all  the  offices  in  the  Street  and  the  newspapers  reg 
ularly  cribbed  from  them.  Rock  was  accessible  to  all 
the  financial  writers,  but  he  distributed  impressions 
through  the  news-slips.  It  saved  him  time. 

21 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

The  suggestion  in  Rock's  manner  of  personal  good 
will  made  Gilmartin  feel  better,  and  he  approached  the 
ticker  by  the  window.  It  symbolized  the  democracy 
of  the  money-makers.  All  men  had  the  same  heart- 
interest  in  the  little  machine — the  actual  millionaire 
and  the  would-be,  the  piker  and  the  plunger;  and  all 
being,  therefore,  equally  entitled  to  a  look,  any  one 
might  read  the  tape  over  another's  shoulder  and  not  be 
deemed  rude ;  only  human.  Perhaps  this  is  because  the 
ticker  lifts  to  eminence  to-day  the  pauper  of  yesterday, 
and  can  turn  the  ingratiating  smiles  of  to-day  into  the 
derisive  laughter  of  to-morrow.  Or  it  simply  may  be 
the  democracy  of  the  betting-ring. 

"H'm,"  observed  Gilmartin,  really  to  make  talk  and 
to  show  that  he  knew  Rock  liked  him,  "Virginia  Central 
is  47 J.  It  was  48 J  a  minute  ago." 

Rock  turned  to  the  tape  with  an  air  of  novelty,  al 
most  as  if  it  were  the  first  time  that  morning  he  had 
glanced  at  it,  and  said,  a  trifle  correctingly:  "It's  now 
471  6j;  f.  Rather  active,  isn't  it?  You  might  say 
it's  in  a  melting  mood,  eh?" 

"I  wonder  what  makes  it  so  weak?"  asked  Gil- 
martin,  ignoring  the  play  of  words.  He  looked  at  Mr. 
Rock  interrogatively.  Rock  laughed. 

"Don't  look  so  accusingly  at  me,  Gilmartin.  Come; 
what's  on  your  mind?" 

"I  thought  you  had  some,"  confessed  Gilmartin, 
looking  at  the  Old  Man's  face;  it  was  now  impassive, 
perhaps  too  impassive;  and  Gilmartin  continued: 
"And  I  wondered  if — "  Gilmartin  had  no  business 
even  to  suspect  such  a  thing.  Realizing  this,  he  ceased 
to  speak.  The  Old  Man  could  not  wish  anybody  to 
know  it.  But  ignorance  is  as  difficult  to  keep  dark  in 
Wall  Street  at  times  as  knowledge.  Rock  did  not  show 

22 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

his  displeasure.     He   asked,   with   a  sort  of  careless 
kindness: 

"Have  you  any?" 

Mr.  Rock's  face,  it  burst  joyfully  upon  Gilmartin,  now 
looked  distinctly  philanthropic.  It  made  Gilmartin 
very  promptly  look  dejected,  however  dithyrambic  his 
soul  might  be.  It  was  the  psychological  moment — to 
get  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  good  tip  and  the  facts; 
that  is,  to  make  money  out  of  the  tip,  which  was  nice, 
and  to  get  news  for  his  slips,  which  was  his  duty.  In 
the  human  order  of  niceness,  first  the  gamble,  then  the 
other.  He  answered: 

"Yes,  sir.  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  I  have."  He  hesi 
tated  and  took  another  look  at  the  tape.  What  he  saw 
there  made  him  say,  angrily:  "Yes,  sir,  I'm  decidedly 
sorry  to  say  I  have.  The  pup  is  now  46} ."  By  this 
time  he  almost  believed  his  lie  and  was  on  the  verge  of 
mourning  his  loss.  A  rich  man's  sympathy,  if  artis 
tically  aroused,  can  do  pleasing  things.  He  hoped 
Rock  was  making  money.  That  would  make  him  very 
sympathetic.  And  so  little  to  Rock  meant  so  much  to 
Gilmartin ! 

"H'm!"  grunted  Rock,  who  was  watching  the  little 
paper-ribbon  intently.  The  grunt  did  not  have  a 
particularly  philanthropic  sound. 

"Yes,  sir,"  almost  wept  Gilmartin. 

"  H'm!"  again  came  from  Rock,  who  was  not  listening 
to  anything  but  the  ticker. 

"I've  got  two  hundred  shares,"  wailed  Gilmartin, 
hesitating  between  a  self-reproachful  frown  at  his 
stupidity,  and  the  visible  expression  of  an  unbearable 
pain  at  his  misfortune. 

"Eh?  Ah!"  Rock  turned  to  the  reporter.  "What 
did  you  say  you  had  ?" 

23 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Two  hundred  Virginia  Central.  Holy  smoke!" 
excitedly,  "it's  46!"  He  remembered  himself,  and 
said,  very  bitterly:  "It  cost  me  48^."  To  lose  six 
hundred  dollars  would  make  a  very  poor  man  bitter. 
And  Gilmartin  was  even  poorer. 

"Well,  why  don't  you — er —  Rock  stared  vacantly 
at  Gilmartin 's  red  hair.  His  thoughts  were  across  the 
street  with  Dunlap. 

"Yes,  sir?"  said  Gilmartin,  eagerly.  Rock  blinked 
his  eyes.  The  vacant  look  disappeared.  In  its  place 
was  indifference — nothing  gained  by  the  change! 

"Er — do  something."  And  Rock  turned  to  the 
ticker  again. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  me  what  to  do?"  retorted 
Gilmartin,  with  precisely  the  degree  of  indignation  he 
thought  he  might  safely  permit  himself.  He  meant 
Mr.  Rock  to  imagine  that  his  loss  made  him  talk  that 
way.  The  fear  of  death  will  make  even  rabbits 
desperate.  Gilmartin  hoped  the  Old  Man  might  think 
of  an  inoffensive  rabbit  who  wrote  for  a  living. 

"You  get  all  the  news.  You  ought  to  know  what 
to  do."  The  tone  of  the  voice  was  non-committal, 
narrowly  escaping  being  sarcastic;  which  was  bad. 
Then:  "What  do  you  hear  about  it?"  The  voice  was 
again  friendly.  One  wing  of  hope  fluttered. 

"I  heard,"  answered  Gilmartin,  emphasizing  the  past 
tense  to  show  that  out  of  loyalty  to  Rock  he  no  longer 
believed  it,  "that  the  London  people  were  waiting  for 
some  kind  of  a  report  before  they  bought  a  block  of 
treasury  stock  Colonel  Robinson  is  trying  to  sell  them. 
I  thought  Colonel  Robinson  might  get  somebody  to 
put  up  the  stock  to  lure  them  on." 

"Well,  I  guess  the  Englishmen  will  get  it  cheap 
enough,"  said  Rock,  calmly. 

24 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"Robinson  going  over  ?" 

"Don't  ask  me  questions,"  said  Rock,  sharply,  look 
ing  at  Gilmartin  straight  in  the  yes.  "How  do  I  know 
what  he  is  going  to  do  ?" 

"/  am  telling  you."  Gilmartin  spoke  with  the 
dignity  of  a  man  who  is  rebuffed  while  being  good.  ' '  He 
is,  or  was,  to  sail  on  the  third  of  next  month."  His 
heart  suddenly  fluttered  with  fear.  He  could  not  tell 
whether  the  Old  Man  would  blame  him  for  Robinson's 
actions  or  for  his  ignorance  of  them.  The  uncertainty 
being  reducible  to  dollars,  not  to  know  whether  the  sign 
in  Rock's  mind  was  a  plus  or  a  minus  sign  was  to  be 
stricken  unto  death;  and  he  a  writer  with  a  family. 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Yes,  sir."  Then  he  placed  the  blame  on  others; 
he  added,  "Hubbard  and  Stillwell  said  so." 

On  Rock's  face  there  was  nothing  that  Gilmartin 
could  read.  But  the  captain  of  finance  said,  reflec 
tively  : 

"They  are  easy -folks  in  London  to  deal  with.  He'd 
better  make  haste." 

"Do  you  think —  '  Gilmartin's  eager  voice  told  so 
plainly  his  fears,  which  were  prompted  by  his  hopes, 
that  Rock  smiled,  and  answered: 

"Oh,  it's  a  mighty  fine  road.  It  has  a  great  fuchah, 
by  gad,  suh!"  Rock  was  plagiarizing  from  Colonel 
Robinson,  who  was  a  very  southern  Southerner.  It 
made  Gilmartin  say,  impetuously: 

"  Do  you  really  think  it's  rotten?" 

Rock  laughed. 

"Nonsense,  Gilmartin;  you  are  becoming  prejudiced 
and  slangy.  It's  a  fine  road.  Hasn't  it  kept  out  of 
bankruptcy  —  so  far?"  The  speaker,  it  was  quite 
obvious,  did  not  wish  to  be  nasty  to  a  competitor,  but 

25 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

neither  did  he  wish  his  reporter  friend  to  be  fooled. 
In  the  tie-vote  between  friendship  and  duty,  the  ticker 
usually  casts  the  deciding  ballot.  Gilmartin  gratefully 
asked: 

"Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  of  a  receivership 
fortheVir—  " 

"Look  here,  Gilmartin,  you  mustn't  talk  that  way. 
There  is  a  law  against  the  circulation  of  malicious  lies 
calculated  to  injure  a  corporation's  credit."  The 
sternness  was  of  a  friend  who  is  wise  towards  a  friend 
who  is  indiscreet. 

"I  know;  but — "  began  the  unabashed  Gilmartin. 

"Well,  there  are  good  times  coming  for  all.  If 
Robinson  can  land  the  English  again  for  another  ten 
million  or  so  and  gets  a  few  up-to-date  railroad  men  to 
show  him  how  the  road  ought  to  be  run,  I  think  he'll 
pull  through,"  This  was  gospel  truth. 

"Mr.  Rock,"  asked  Gilmartin,  tremblingly,  "do  you 
think  the  stock  is  going  still — " 

"It  is  not  still.  It  keeps  moving.  It's  now  45!," 
observed  Rock,  the  tape  between  his  fingers. 

"Somebody  on  the  inside  is  selling  out.  The  report 
must  be  unfavorable." 

"Don't  jump  at  conclusions,  Gilmartin,"  quizzed 
Rock.  "Maybe  it's  only  a  drive  to  get  cheap  stock." 
That  also  was  an  eternal  verity. 

"Drive?  That's  long  stock  coming  out.  Just  look 
at  it!"  retorted.  Gilmartin,  with  indignant  scepticism. 
Mr.  Rock's  face  did  not  permit  itself  to  smile.  Dunlap, 
like  every  professional  trader,  actually  rejoiced  when 
he  had  a  chance  to  "whack"  a  stock.  If  a  man  is  in  a 
hurry  to  reach  a  place  on  foot,  it  is  nice  to  be  able  to 
walk  down-hill.  He  was  happy  now.  So  were  the  pro 
fessional  traders,  who  were  blithely  selling  it  because 

26 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

somebody  else  was.  They  knew  nothing  about  Vir 
ginia  Central,  but  the  unknown  somebody  else  prob 
ably  did. 

"Tut,  tut,  man!"  said  Rock,  just  a  trifle  impatiently. 
There  was  something  in  the  way  Rock  was  looking  at 
the  tape  that  made  Gilmartin  say,  determinedly — it  was 
no  time  for  play-acting: 

"Mr.  Rock,  do  you  think  it's  going  much  lower?" 

"Is  this  for  your  paper?"  Rock  looked  at  the  re 
porter  with  a  sort  of  indecisive  benignity. 

"No,  it's  for  Gilmartin,"  answered  Gilmartin,  thrilled. 
The  ticker  began  to  sing,  goldenly,  Haste!  haste!  and 
then,  the  cash!  the  cash! 

"I  think,"  said  Rock,  very  deliberately — and  Gil- 
martin,  listening  with  his  very  soul,  heard  the  words 
tinkle  like  coins  dropping  into  a  cup  slowly,  one  by  one, 
all  of  gold,  each  an  embodied  hope — "I  think  that  the 
price  is  more  than  likely  to  go  down.  In  fact,  Gilmar 
tin,  I  think  the  entire  market  will  work  lower.  And 
the  Virginia  Central  stock,  I  should  say,  might  very 
possibly  be  the  leader.  It  depends  on  whether  Robin 
son  can  raise  the  money  he  needs  or  not." 

"I  bet  he  won't  get  a  cent,"  interjected  Gilmartin. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind.  The  Virginia  Central  was 
doomed.  The  doom  was  also  reducible  to  dollars  and 
cents.  He  still  waited,  in  the  hope  of  getting  more  in 
formation.  That  was  common-sense.  Moreover,  with 
additional  data  he  could  reckon  more  closely  his 
probable  profits.  He  might  then  tell  his  wife  exactly 
what  needed  things  she  would  be  able  to  buy  in  a  few 
short  and  happy  days.  He  loved  his  family.  For 
their  sake  he  now  loved  the  ticker.  A  year's  salary 
in  one  week — what  did  that  mean?  Heaven!  The 
ticker  would  open  the  shining  gates;  Gilmartin  would 
3  27 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

let  his  wife  and  children  enter  first.  He  was  not 
selfish. 

"  I  haven't  said  anything  for  publication,  you  under 
stand?" 

"Do  I  ever  quote  you  unless  you  specifically  say  I 
may?"  asked  Gilmartin,  reproachfully. 

"No;  that's  why  I  talk  to  you,"  said  Rock,  dis- 
missingly.  "And,  Gilmartin" — as  the  reporter  turned 
to  go — "tell  Valentine  I  said  you  were  good  for  a  couple 
of  hundred  shares,  whether  you  want  to  buy  or  sell — " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Rock.  It  will  be  Virginia  Central, 
and  it  won't  be  to  buy,"  said  Gilmartin,  ingratiatingly; 
"unless,"  he  added,  prudently,  "you  think  there  is  some 
other  stock  that  I'd  better — "  His  hopes  did  not  in 
toxicate  him  utterly;  he  still  thought  of  his  family's 
welfare. 

"It's  your  funeral,"  laughed  Rock.  "Pick  your  own 
winner.  If  you  hear  anything  of  interest,  let  me  know, 
will  you  ?" 

"You  bet,"  replied  Gilmartin,  with  hasty  gratitude, 
before  he  almost  ran  out  to  sell  two  hundred  shares  of 
Virginia  Central  in  Dunlap's  office,  without  having  to 
put  up  any  margin.  Mr.  Rock  had  not  asked  him  to  cir 
culate  false  statements  about  the  road  nor  about  the 
stock,  and  had  not  bribed  him,  but  left  everything  to 
Gilmartin's  susceptibility  to  impressions.  If  Gilmar 
tin  wished  to  sell  Virginia  Central  short,  and  allowed 
his  gambling  to  bias  his  judgment  and  influence  his 
writings,  it  was  of  his  own  doing.  Mr.  Rock  had 
merely  been  generous  in  lending  money  to  a  poor  chap 
to  gamble  with,  that  a  poor  chap  might  make  a  year's 
salary  in  a  week  —  a  glorious,  workless  week — which 
would  buy  clothes  for  three  red  -  haired  little  boys 
in  Flatbush.  Rock  did  not  tell  lies,  deliberately  or 

28 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

accidentally.  He  considered  it  unnecessary,  which, 
indeed,  it  was — in  Wall  Street.  Gilmartin  inevitably 
would  sell  that  tip  to  people  who  would  gamble  on  it 
and  give  him  a  share  of  the  winnings;  and  then  he 
would  give  it,  free  of  charge,  to  as  many  people  as  would 
listen  to  him — so  that  they  too  would  sell  the  stock 
short.  Each  of  the  recipients  of  the  tip,  which  was  a 
very  good  tip,  would  in  turn  tell  his  friends;  for,  nat 
urally,  if  the  friends  took  it  and  passed  it  on  to  their 
friends,  it  would  mean  selling,  and  that  would  help  the 
price  to  go  down,  and  that  would  help  the  third  and 
second  and  first  generation  of  tip  -  givers ;  and  that 
would  help  Gilmartin,  and  that  would  help  Rock,  and 
that  would  give  work  to  railroad  -  builders  in  Virginia. 
The  philosophy  of  the  truthful,  and  therefore  intelligent, 
"inside  tip  "  at  a  certain  stage  of  the  manipulation  is  the 
fascinating  philosophy  of  the  endless  chain. 


Ill 

ROCK  turned  to  the  table  where  eight  or  ten  tele 
phone  instruments  stood.  He  must  discourage 
not  only  Colonel  Robinson,  but  the  English  bond 
holders  as  well.  He  would  cable  to  his  London  brokers 
later  in  the  day.  Other  stocks  than  the  Virginia  Cen 
tral  ought  logically  to  go  down.  In  order  to  divert 
suspicion  he  must  not  attack  Virginia  Central  alone. 
If  the  weakness  was  general,  the  decline  of  any  one 
stock  would  look  "natural,"  and  naturalness  is  the 
first  essential  of  really  skilful  manipulation,  since  nat 
uralness  and  convincingness  are  synonymous.  In  the 
last  vigorous  attacks  of  the  campaign,  Virginia  Central 
would  bear  the  brunt  of  the  pounding,  as  it  was  proper 
it  should.  It  would  be  safe  to  do  so  by  that  time. 
He  took  one  of  the  several  desk-telephones  on  the  long 
table. 

"Tell  Mr.  Dunlap  to  come  to  the  'phone,  please." 
He  put  down  the  instrument  and  walked  to  the 
ticker,    studying    the    tape.     Presently    a    bell    rang. 
Rock  took  the  same  telephone. 

"Dan? — Yes. — What's  the  last  Virginia?  45^?— 
How  easily  does  the  real  article  come  out  ?"  (He  meant 
actual  stock,  not  traders'  contracts.)  "Good. — Well, 
let  up  now,  but  see  that  the  price  doesn't  get  back 
above  46 J  on  any  rally;  and  pound  it  again  just  before 
the  close  if  it  doesn't  go  down  of  its  own  accord. — I'll 

30 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

attend  to  London. — You  can  let  Cross  sell. — Cross — yes. 
— Let  Cross  sell  five  thousand  Roanoke  at  the  market. 
Not  too  eagerly. — Understand? — And  distribute  a  few 
five-hundred-share  lots. — Reduce  the  supporting  orders 
in  Roanoke."  (The  orders  he  had  given  out  to  buy  his 
own  stock  in  case  others  tried  to  sell.)  "  And  you,  per 
sonally,  buy  five  hundred  every  eighth  down,  as  loudly 
as  you  please,  Dan."  (That  would  show  that  poor 
Rock  was  "supporting"  his  own  "specialty,"  and  was 
suffering  like  other  magnates  from  the  general  selling 
movement.)  "If  you  think  it  advisable,  you  might 
also  sell  a  few  other  stocks. — Catch  the  idea?  Yes. — 
Good-bye. — Hello! — Don't  lose  any  more  Virginia  Cen 
tral  than  you  can  help. — That's  all." 

Rock  was  obliged  to  be  very  explicit,  and  to  volun 
teer  answers  to  the  questions  he  knew  Dunlap  would 
have  asked  if  sharp-eared  telephone  clerks  in  that  par 
ticular  row  of  booths  on  the  Exchange  were  not  sur 
rounding  him.  They  knew  that  when  Dunlap  tele 
phoned  it  was  to  Rock,  and  they  knew  Rock  was  a 
gold-mine  in  an  active  market.  Rock  also  knew  it. 
He  sometimes  sold  bricks  from  his  gold-mine  to  the 
clerks'  employers — without  paying  commissions  to  the 
clerks.  Genius  is  an  infinite  capacity  for  taking  pains. 
Rock  took  pains.  He  was  very  rich. 

He  rang  the  bell  for  Valentine.  The  cashier  came 
in.  Before  Rock  could  ask  any  questions,  Valentine 
said:  "Morson  says  the  St.  Louis  is  just  docking." 
The  news  of  young  Sam  Rock's  return  had  excited  the 
front  office  far  more  than  the  private  office. 

Rock,  still  unexcited  by  the  news,  said:  "Aha!" 
And  then:  "Telephone  Rosenstein  to  quote  thirty-day 
puts  in  London  on  ten  thousand  shares  of  Virginia 
Central.  As  soon  as  he  answers  cable  orders  to  sell 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

five  thousand  shares  about  two  o'clock,  their  time,  to 
morrow.  You'll  have  to  be  down  early  to-morrow 
morning.  If  Ismay  cables  for  news,  say  it  looks  to  us 
like  lower  prices." 

"Yes,  sir." 

An  office-boy  entered. 

"There's  a  lady  to  see  you,  Mr.  Rock." 

"Huh?"  Rock  looked  at  the  boy  with  a  frown  of 
non-comprehension . 

"She  said  her  name  was  Mrs.  Collyer,"  went  on  the 
boy,  transferring  the  blame  with  the  effect  of  dropping 
a  hot  poker.  "She  said  she  knew  you  were  busy,  but 
she  would  only  take  half  a  minute,"  the  boy  con 
tinued,  accusingly. 

"Very  well,"  said  Rock.  "Show  her  into  the  next 
room.  That's  all,  Valentine." 

"I've  warned  Willie  always  to  say — "  began  the 
cashier,  apologetically. 

"Oh,,  well,"  said  Rock,  with  a  smile,  and  went  into 
the  adjoining  room.  "Of  course,  I  am  always  in  to 
Mrs.  Collyer." 

Mrs.  Collyer  was  the  widow  of  his  best  friend.  He 
and  Jack  Collyer  had  been  chums  as  school-boys  and 
at  college,  and  their  wives  had  been  chums  as  school 
girls.  Minnie  Rock  had  died  first.  Sampson  Rock 
had  been  the  executor  of  Jack's  estate.  At  first  he 
used  to  dine  at  Mrs.  Collyer's  every  Wednesday.  Of 
late  years  he  had  dropped  out  of  the  habit.  The 
children  kept  it  up.  Sam  was  five  years  older  than 
Fanny  Collyer;  she  was  ten  years  wiser  than  he, 
Sampson  Rock  had  once  told  Miss  Fanny  in  Sam's 
hearing.  It  was  when  Sam  came  home  from  the 
football  field,  a  seven  -  columned  hero  —  newspaper — • 
with  bruises  and  limps  and  aches  and  an  air! 

32 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

In  the  next  room  Mrs.  Collyer  was  speaking  to 
Fanny.  She  was  stout  and  hated  it.  In  hot  weather 
she  could  hardly  breathe,  having  illusions  as  to  dress 
makers.  She  was  white-haired  with  a  youngish  face, 
which  looked  more  florid  than  it  really  was  because  of 
the  contrast  with  the  snowy  whiteness  of  the  hair  and 
the  resolute  expression  she  habitually  wore.  It  pleased 
her  for  some  reason  to  think  she  could  think.  Often 
when  she  indulged  in  small  talk  she  looked  distrait, 
as  though  her  real  mind  were  thinking  of  serious 
things  even  while  her  auxiliary,  or  society,  mind  was 
forced  by  the  exigencies  of  the  situation  to  stoop  to 
trifles.  She  had  nice  manners  when  she  was  not  inter 
ested  in  the  stock-market;  but  even  when  she  was 
gambling,  if  she  was  inattentive  to  another's  impressive 
remarks,  she  often  discovered  it  in  time  and  apologized: 
"My  dear,  I'm  perfectly  impossible,  I  know.  I  was 
thinking  about  some  investments.  I  really  don't  know 
what's  come  over  me  in  my  old  age  unless  it  is  that  the 
cost  of  living  increases  so  every  day."  Her  family 
connections  made  it  possible  for  her  to  refer  to  her 
insufficient  income  with  impunity.  She  had  a  rather 
nice  smile  at  times.  Also,  she  sometimes  had  common- 
sense,  even  though  she  sought  to  get  something  for 
nothing  in  the  stock-market.  She  rather  feared  Rock 
because  his  advice  to  her  was  always  to  invest,  and  she 
had  so  little  to  invest  that  at  four  per  cent,  per  annum 
it  meant  practically  nothing.  Just  now  she  was  count 
ing  on  her  fingers,  a  frown  on  her  face,  her  eyes  on  the 
centre  electrolier,  and  her  lips  moving  silently. 

"Mamma,  what  in  the  world  are  you — "  Fanny 
began. 

"Hush!"  hissed  Mrs.  Collyer,  waving  the  uncounting 
hand  at  her  daughter. 

33 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

Fanny  persisted.  "It  makes  me  uncomfortable  to 
see  you  there,  muttering  and — " 

"How  do  you  do,  Marie  ?"  said  Rock.  "And  Fanny! 
My,  this  is  nice!"  He  had  always  been  fond  of  her.  It 
showed  in  his  speech. 

"How  do  you  do,  Sampson?"  said  Mrs.  Collyer, 
nodding,  but  without  ceasing  to  count  mechanically. 
"I  came  down  to  see  Wilson  &  Nesbit"  (her  lawyers, 
in  the  same  office  building,  who  took  care  of  the  two 
small  houses  she  owned)  "about  some  leases,  and  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  see  you  about — "  She  was 
again  counting,  counting! 

"Well,  Uncle  Sam,"  hastily  interjected  Fanny,  with 
a  very  friendly  smile  to  offset  the  counting,  "you  are 
looking  so  well  that  I  fancy  the  bears — or  the  bulls,  is 
it? — must  be  feeling  pretty  ill." 

"No  complaint;  everybody  satisfied,"  laughed  Rock. 
"But  as  I  get  a  good  look  at  you  it  strikes  me  some 
young  man  must  be  feeling  pretty  uncomfortable,  I'll 
bet." 

"Only  five.     When's  Sam  due ?" 

"Is  he  the  sixth?" 

"The  first,  Uncle  Sam."  She  was  rather  a  serious- 
minded  girl.  Her  sense  of  humor  was  national  rather 
than  individual,  and  her  flippancy  came  from  a  half- 
conscious  imitation  of  the  habitual  speech  of  her 
friends. 

"Expect  him  any  minute.  His  boat's  at  the  dock 
now." 

The  girl's  face  brightened.  "  Oh,  is  it  ?  Won't  it  be 
jolly  if  he  finds  us  here!  I  would  have  gone  to  the 
pier  to  meet  him  if  I'd  known  it  was  to-day.  I'll  wait 
here;  may  I?" 

For  some  reason  Rock  looked  towards  Mrs.  Collyer, 
34 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

who  was  counting,  counting!  She  caught  his  look  and 
said  :  "What  was  that,  Sampson?  I  was  figuring  how 
much — " 

"Sam's  back!"  cried  Fanny.  Her  face  wore  a  look 
of  mingled  pleasure  and  annoyance — Sam  was  in  New 
York,  and  her  mother  was  in  Wall  Street. 

"Isn't  that  nice!  He's  been  away  a  long  time, 
hasn't  he?  Sampson,  you  know  that  one  thousand 
Roanoke  I  bought  last  week?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  answered  Rock,  with  a  polite  frown, 
as  if  he  did  not  forgive  himself  for  his  ignorance. 

"You  don't?     Why,  you  told  me  yourself  to  do  it." 

"I  did?     I  haven't  seen  you  in  two  months,  Marie." 

"Yes,  but  you  told  me  then." 

"It  was  around  seventy  at  the  time." 

"Well,  I  forgot  all  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  very 
impressively,  "until  I  heard  one  of  the  Van  Courtlandt- 
Joneses — I  think  it  was  Frank — say  the  other  day  it  was 
very  strong  and  looked  like  going  higher.  I  telephoned 
Mr.  Valentine  to  buy  a  thousand  shares  for  me  and  he  did. 
I  have  the  report  at  home,"  she  finished,  as  if  clinching 
an  argument.  Of  course  Rock  must  remember  now. 

He  nodded. 

"What  did  you  pay  for  it?" 

' '  Seventy-eight.     What  is  it  now  ?" 

"Seventy-five." 

"Sampson  Rock!" 

"My  dear  Marie,  if  you  wanted  to  invest  seventy- 
eight  thousand  dollars  why  didn't  you  find — " 

"But  I  don't  want  to  invest  any  money  at  all.  Do 
you  think  I  carry  seventy-eight  thousand  dollars  around 
for  a  pocket-piece  ?  I  wanted  to  speculate."  She  spoke 
as  though  making  a  confession,  but  also  as  though  some 
one  else  were  to  blame  for  the  things  she  confessed. 

35 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Well,  then,  speculate.  As  long  as  you  stick  to  one- 
thousand-share  lots  you  can't  lose  very  much."  Rock 
felt  certain  that  Roanoke  would  eventually  sell  higher. 
But  if  it  went  down  he  would  see  to  it  that  Mrs.  Collyer 
was  not  sold  out.  That  was  why  he  had  made  Dunlap 
&  Co.  her  brokers.  But  he  never  told  her;  she  would 
have  lived  in  the  office  had  she  known  his  inten 
tions. 

"I  can't?  Sampson,  this  dealing  in  mythical  mill 
ions" —  Rock  could  see  that  the  alliteration  pleased 
her,  she  exuded  so  much  visible  wisdom — "that  you 
Wall  Street  men  call  operations,  completely  destroys 
your  sense  of  relative  values.  I  can  lose  a  thousand 
dollars  a  point,  can't  I?"  She  defied,  Ajax-like,  the 
lightning  of  contradiction. 

"Mother,  think  of  your  only  child!"  implored  Fanny, 
with  a  pained  look.  It  was  in  jest.  But,  also,  she  did 
not  wish  Rock  to  be  vexed  with  the  Collyers.  And 
though  she  believed  in  his  business  infallibility,  because 
she  was  very  fond  of  him  and  because  she  read  the 
newspapers,  she  did  not  relish  the  possibility  of  loss. 
It  always  made  her  mother  unamiable. 

"And  I  only  wanted  to  make  vacation  money  and 
not  lose  half  a  year's  income."  Mrs.  Collyer 's  voice 
had  an  accusing  ring.  She  never  before  had  speculated 
so  heavily.  But  there  were  so  many  things  she  wished 
to  buy!  And  now  Sampson  Rock  deliberately — 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  in  your  mad  plunge  you 
have — "  began  Fanny,  in  exaggerated  alarm.  She  was 
intensely  unhappy  whenever  her  mother  had  anything 
to  do  with  stocks.  It  made  her  count,  count! 

Rock  laughed.  "Well,  Marie,  cheer  up.  It's  only 
down  three  points,  and — " 

"Three!"     Mrs.  Collyer's  alarm  was  quite  real. 
36 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"It's  seventy-five  now  and  you  bought  it  at  seventy- 
eight—" 

Mrs.  Collyer  resumed  her  counting,  aloud,  and  not 
so  calmly  as  before.  "Seventy-eight,  seventy-nine, 
eighty — "  It  was  the  way  she  loved  to  count;  it  had 
become  an  ascending  habit. 

"The  other  way,  mother,  dear;  it's  down,"  said 
Fanny,  sweetly  spiteful  because  it  seemed  retribution 
and  also  might  have  educational  value. 

Rock  laughed. 

Mrs.  Collyer  indignantly,  but  doggedly,  began  to  count 
on  her  fingers:  "Seventy-five,  seventy-four,  seventy — " 

"You've  lost  three  thousand  dollars,"  interrupted 
Fanny,  unsympathetically.  "Hasn't  she,  Uncle  Samp 
son?" 

"I  have  not,"  retorted  Mrs.  Collyer,  sharply,  before 
Rock  could  answer.  "Fanny,  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
interrupt  me  when  I'm  thinking." 

"There's  no  loss — yet,"  began  Rock,  slowly. 

"I  knew—" 

"And  there  won't  be  any  if  you  have  patience." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  patient  enough!"  said  Mrs.  Collyer, 
amicably.  Then  her  face  clouded  with  doubt  and 
suspicion.  Gambling  and  jealousy  have  some  things 
in  common. 

"H'm!"  muttered  Fanny  with  a  resigned  look. 

Her  mother  shot  a  rebuking  glance  at  her. 

Rock  interjected,  quickly:  "Marie,  Roanoke  is  going 
to  sell  higher — " 

"When?"  interrupted  Mrs.  Collyer.  To  a  gambler, 
patience  is  the  suggestion  of  an  unintelligent  fiend 
recommending  the  pursuit  of  the  unattainable. 

"Before  long.     I  think  it  will  go  to  par." 

"That  means — "  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  with  a  smile  that 
37 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

showed  she  knew,  but  preferred  Rock  to  put  it  tersely 
for  Fanny's  benefit.     Men  are  so  good  at  definitions! 

"A  hundred  dollars  a  share." 

As  by  magic,  Mrs.  Collyer  began  counting,  counting! 
She  gave  it  up  between  eighty-five  and  ninety. 

"How  much  will  I  make?"  she  said,  with  an  air  of 
arithmetical  surrender  combined  with  strictly  business 
like  curiosity. 

"Twenty  thousand,"  answered  Rock. 

She  beamed  on  him. 

"Sampson,  you  are  a  genius!  I  always  said  you 
were,  and  nobody  is  gladder  of  your  success  than  I. 
Oh,  if  our  poor — " 

Rock  frowned  slightly.  He  knew  she  was  about  to 
mention  his  wife's  name,  and  he  did  not  like  to  be  re 
minded  of  his  loss,  even  after  these  many  years.  A 
knock  at  the  door  made  him  seize  the  opportunity 
avidly.  He  said,  "Excuse  me,"  very  quickly,  and 
opened  the  door.  It  was  Valentine,  who  told  him 
Dunlap  wanted  him  on  the  'phone. 

Rock  was  suggesting  certain  attacks  when  the  door 
opened  and  five  messenger  boys  entered,  laden  with 
valises,  hat -boxes,  bundles  of  rugs  and  canes,  and  a 
heavy  piece  of  iron  that  looked  like  some  part  of  a 
machine.  Behind  them  was  a  small,  wiry,  swarthy 
man  in  an  automobile  cap,  who  stood  very  straight, 
with  an  expression  of  haughty  ennui.  Sampson  Rock, 
the  receiver  still  held  to  his  ear,  took  in  the  messenger 
boys  and  then  looked  sharply  at  the  Frenchman — there 
was  no  mistaking  his  nationality.  The  man  returned 
the  stare  coolly,  as  befitted  a  world-renowned  scorcher, 
but  old  Rock's  eyes  took  on  such  an  expression  that 
the  Frenchman's  hand  went  up  to  his  cap.  He  did  not 
remove  the  headgear,  but  he  looked  at  the  floor  and 

38 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

mumbled.  The  messenger  boys,  like  bubbles  drawn 
together  by  capillary  attraction,  grouped  themselves 
about  a  bundle  of  canes  and  alpenstocks  as  about  a 
May-pole,  and  looked  expectant,  as  though  the  final 
chapter  was  yet  to  be  written.  Wall  Street  was  good 
graft. 

"Yes,  yes.  Do  as  you  say,  Dan,"  Rock  said  to  the 
telephone  and  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"Sam's  beginning  to  arrive,"  muttered  Rock,  a  trifle 
impatiently.  Sam  evidently  had  not  changed.  Then 
Rock  heard  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  front  office — 
jovial  shouts  and  laughter — and  he  was  walking  thither 
when  the  door  opened  and  his  son  entered. 

"Hello,  Dad!"  shouted  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"How  do  you  do,  Sam?"  said  Sampson  Rock,  Sr. 

They  shook  hands. 

Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  was  twenty -five,  and  looked 
younger.  His  eyes  were  blue-gray  and  a  trifle  restless, 
with  a  suggestion  of  impatience  and,  withal,  carelessness. 
The  brow,  the  nose,  and  the  chin  were  the  brow  and 
the  nose  and  the  chin  of  Sampson  Rock.  But,  possibly 
because  of  his  youth,  he  was  a  more  athletic  and  a 
cleaner-cut  Sampson  Rock.  The  mouth,  inherited  from 
the  mother,  was  different,  as  though  laughter  came  more 
easily  to  him.  The  father's  eyes  were  grayer  than  the 
son's;  not  more  intelligent  so  much  as  more  purposeful. 
The  elder  Rock  looked  as  if  he  always  knew  what  he 
was  doing;  the  younger  as  if  he  knew  what  he  was  not 
doing  and  did  not  care.  He  was  heavily  sun-tanned. 

Sam  scrutinized  his  father  with  a  sort  of  quizzical 
affection. 

"You  don't  look  as  if  my  absence  had  affected  your 
appetite,  Dad,"  he  said.  "Business  must  be  good." 

39 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"And  you  look  as  always."  Rock  said  this  kindly 
enough;  but,  as  he  glanced  at  the  luggage  strewn  all 
about  the  office,  he  added,  with  a  shade  of  impatience, 
"Only  more  so." 

Sam  laughed.  "Well,  some  men  accumulate  love- 
letters,  others  debts.  I'm  great  on  luggage."  He 
waved  his  hand  towards  the  messenger  boys  and  their 
burdens.  "All  mine,  and  more  at  the  dock.  Wait 
until  you  see  the  crime  of  the  century — one  hundred 
horse-power,  and  the  duty — " 

"  H'm!"  grunted  Rock,  unenthusiastically.  Sam  was 
still  a  motor-maniac.  "Mrs.  Collyer  and  Fanny  are  in 
the  next  room." 

Sam's  troubles  over  automobiles  and  duties  vanished 
and  his  face  brightened.  "Where,  Dad?"  he  asked, 
eagerly,  and  Rock  pointed  to  the  door.  Sam  hurried 
to  meet  them. 

"How  do  you  do,  Aunt  Marie?"  he  said,  joyfully. 
"Hello,  Fan!"  he  shouted. 

"My  boy,  you're  looking  splendid,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer. 
She  wasn't  his  aunt,  but  he  had  always  called  her  so. 
He  threw  an  arm  about  her  and  smacked  her  resound 
ingly  on  the  cheek.  Then  he  hastened  towards  Fanny. 

Her  color  had  risen  and  her  eyes  were  very  bright. 

"Welcome  back,  Sam,"  she  said,  and  held  out  her 
hand.  He  looked  very  brown — a  strong  and  good- 
looking  chap,  very  healthy  and  very  glad  to  see  her. 

"What?"  said  Sam,  indignantly  ignoring  the  hand. 
"I  guess  not,  my  child,"  and  he  kissed  her.  He  was 
the  same  Sam,  she  decided.  She  was  a  year  and  a 
half  older  than  when  she  had  last  seen  him.  But  he 
was  not.  He  did  not  look  it  and  did  not  act  it. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  said,  generally,  "it  makes  a  man  feel 
like  something  to  be  back." 
'     40 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

"You've  been  pretty  much  everywhere,  haven't  you, 
Sam  ?"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  absently.  She  began  to  count 
on  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand,  but  caught  herself,  and 
thereupon  gave  Sam  a  rather  formal  smile.  She  really 
was  very  fond  of  him.  But  he  was  interrupting  her 
golden  calculations.  The  human  heart  has  room  for 
many  affections;  but  for  passions,  only  one  at  a  time. 
She  was  not  a  rich  woman,  and  life  was  so  short! 
There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Fanny  needed  so  many 
things,  and  the  stock-market  was  nice  at  times.  This 
time  .  .  . 

"Yes.  And  if  I  had  known  you  were  looking  so 
well  I'd  have  cut  short  my  sight-seeing  and  hurried 
back.  No  sight  to  equal  this  anywhere.  Has  Fanny 
been  a  dutiful  child?" 

"No,"  said  Fanny. 

"Well,  I'm  back  now,"  he  menaced.  He  laughed 
again.  "My,  my,  it's  good  to  be  back!  Your  house 
for  mine  to-night." 

"We're  going  to — "  began  Mrs.  Collyer,  explanato 
rily. 

"That's  all  right.  I'll  go,  too,"  said  Sam,  with  an 
air  of  overlooking  an  unintentional  mistake. 

* '  Do  you  know  them  ? — the  Van  Courtlandt- Joneses  ?' ' 

"What?  Frank  Jones?  That  little  shrimp?  I 
guess  he  ought  to  be  glad  to  see  me,  considering  I 
saved  his  life  at  college.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  me  he'd 
have  killed  himself  studying.  Ask  him.  I  was  an 
usher  at  his  wedding,  don't  you  remember?" 

"So  you  were,"  agreed  Mrs.  Collyer.  Her  acquies 
cence  sounded  perfunctory.  To  prove  she  had  not 
forgotten  what  she  had  never  thought  of  remembering, 
she  added:  "I  remember  now."  Woman -like,  she 
clinched  it.  "Of  course!" 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Sampson  Rock  entered. 

"Sampson,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  "he  looks  very  well." 
She  assumed  Rock  could  have  but  one  "he"  to  interest 
him  in  life.  Fanny  smiled  acquiescently  and  almost 
felt  like  the  chorus. 

Sampson  Rock  looked  at  Sam  critically,  whereupon 
Sam  arose,  inflated  his  chest,  and  said,  in  a  deep  voice, 
"Yes!" 

Sampson  Rock  laughed  and  approached  his  son.  On 
his  face  was  a  look  of  satisfaction,  almost  of  pride. 
He  was  not  thinking  of  the  Virginia  Central.  He  felt 
Sam's  biceps,  and  Sam  obligingly  doubled  up  his  arm. 
He  was  hard  as  nails. 

"Gad,  what  couldn't  I  do  with  this  and  a  good  diges 
tion!"  Rock  exclaimed,  in  mock  regret. 

"Don't  forget  the  brains,"  laughed  Sam.  "Keep  in 
training,  and  don't  make  too  much  money."  He  made 
a  motion  as  if  to  throw  his  arm  around  his  father's 
neck,  but  Rock,  unaware  of  it,  walked  away.  Fanny 
felt  a  vague  sense  of  embarrassment,  as  if  her  out 
stretched  hand  had  been  deliberately  ignored.  Sam 
was  too  young  for  his  years — too  careless.  That  was 
the  trouble  with  being  an  only  son,  and  motherless, 
when  the  father  was  a  very  busy  man.  Sam  was  just 
Sam.  .  .  . 

"Sampson,"  observed  Mrs.  Collyer,  with  an  air  of 
business-like  determination,  "if  Roanoke  is  going  to 
par,  why  can't  I  buy  another  thousand  ?"  If  there  is  a 
heap  of  gold  pieces  within  reach,  why  not  use  a  shovel  ? 

"You,  too,  Aunt  Marie?"  interjected  Sam,  mourn 
fully. 

"Yes.  Isn't  it  dreadful?"  said  Fanny.  Sam  looked 
at  her  with  mock  sympathy,  but  his  eyes  suddenly 
took  on  an  interested  look;  she  had  grown  into  a  very 

42 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

pretty  girl  in  his  absence.  He  had  never  before  in  his 
life  thought  about  her  looks.  But  she  was  the  first 
New  York  girl  he  had  seen  in  months.  Fanny  felt  his 
stare,  and,  unpleasantly  conscious  of  it,  ended  it  by 
laughing:  "She's  always  studying  the  market  quota 
tions.  That's  all  she  gets  the  newspapers  for.  She 
sometimes  doesn't  lose." 

"My  dear  Marie,"  Rock  answered  Mrs.  Collyer,  with 
the  merest  suspicion  of  impatience,  "nobody  can  tell 
with  absolute  certainly  what  a  stock  may  or  may  not 
do." 

"Can't  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Collyer,  with  a  flattering 
incredulity.  She  smiled,  to  let  him  see  that  she  knew 
he  could  tell,  of  course.  She  had  risked  more  than  she 
could  afford  to  lose,  convinced  of  his  infallibility. 

"No,  I  can't,"  answered  Rock,  so  decisively  that 
Sam  stared  at  him,  and  after  a  pause  said: 

"Well,  I  always  imagined  it  was  your  business  to 
know  and  to  keep  the  other  fellow  from  finding  out." 

The  gold  pieces  in  the  distance  seemed  to  Mrs.  Collyer 
to  grow  tarnished,  until  they  did  not  look  like  gold. 
Then  they  grew  bright  and  beautiful  again,  because, 
of  course,  Rock  knew  she  would  win.  Of  course!  For 
scouring  tarnished  gold,  use  hope. 

It  annoyed  Rock.  No  thought,  no  study,  no  work — 
sure-thing  gambling;  that  was  what  they  thought  he 
did.  It  was  the  same  thing  the  ignorant  masses 
thought.  Not  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  struggle 
and  the  competition,  the  planning  and  the  fighting,  the 
never-absent  danger  of  disaster.  Did  they  know  that 
he  sometimes  risked  his  financial  life  ?  That  he  had  no 
monopoly  of  brains  or  courage  ?  That  there  was  more 
to  the  game  he  played  than  the  gamble  ?  That  he  was 
other  than  a  money-making  machine  ?  Nothing — they 
4  43 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

knew  nothing;   and  his  only  son,  who  should  know  all, 
knew  nothing. 

"Well,  I  don't,  and  it's  about  time  you — "  He 
hesitated.  Fanny  could  not  help  looking  as  she  felt — 
uncomfortable.  She  divined  rather  than  understood  his 
annoyance. 

Sam  frowned  and  asked,  "  I  what,  Dad?" 

Rock  turned  it  off  with  a  laugh.     He  replied: 

"Buy  Roanoke  to  hold  for  par,  and  see  if  it's  so 
certain." 

"Sampson,"  hastily  put  in  Mrs.  Collyer,  in  a  spasm 
of  common-sense  prompted  by  fear — which  again  tight 
ly  bandaged  Hope's  eyes — "if  you  think  there's  any 
danger,  perhaps  I'd  better  sell  out  mine  before  I  lose 
anything."  She  did  not  wish  to  lose  a  little  in  prefer 
ence  to  losing  all.  All  she  wished  was  that  she  would 
not  lose  a  penny,  but  make  thousands.  It  was  the 
woman  in  business — conventional  words  of  wisdom  and 
the  irrepressible  heart's  desire.  Business — woman. 

"But  you've  already  lost  three  thousand  dollars," 
observed  Fanny. 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  determinedly.  How 
could  that  be  when  she  did  not  wish  it  to  be  ? 

1 '  What 's  the  price  now  ?' '  asked  Sam,  hopefully.  ' '  It 
was  thirty-five  when  I  left."  The  bare  knowledge  of 
it  was  the  extent  of  his  interest  in  his  father's  business. 

"Seventy-five,"  said  Fanny,  quickly.  Great  changes 
had  been  in  stocks  in  eighteen  months,  but  Sam  had  not 
read  the  market  reports. 

"Whew!"  whistled  Sam.  "Bull  market;  and  here 
I've  been  economizing — 

"Maybe  it's  gone  up  since  we  came,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Collyer,  so  hopefully  that  Rock  laughed.  Mrs.  Collyer 
thereupon  beamed  gratefully  upon  him.  No  man 

.    44 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

laughs  at  a  funeral,  and  she  had  begun  to  fear  her 
speculation  would  end  in  one.  She  was  on  the  point 
of  thanking  him  for  laughing  at  her  when  Sam  said: 

"I'll  see."  He  started  towards  the  private  office  to 
look  at  the  ticker,  saying,  "Come,  Fanny." 

"No,"  said  Fanny,  because  she  felt  the  impropriety 
of  playing  at  business  in  this  office.  "  I  want  to  be  here 
when  you  break  the  news." 

At  the  door  Sam  paused  and  asked: 

"What's  the  blooming  abbreviation  for  Roanoke?" 

"The  same  as  it  always  has  been,"  answered  Rock, 
sharply.  The  boy  was  the  same — he  knew  nothing 
about  his  father's  business;  not  even  the  two  letters  on 
the  tape  that  should  have  interested  him  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  because  they  told  how  much  he  was  to 
inherit.  That  his  own  flesh  and  blood  did  not  know 
what  was  a  part  of  him  almost  killed  the  sense  of  kin 
ship.  Rock  finished  impatiently,  "RK." 

From  the  other  room  Sam  called  out  in  triumph, 
"Here  it  is — five  hundred!" 

Mrs.  Collyer  jumped  electrically.  "It — can't — can't 
be — p-possible — "  she  murmured,  tremulously.  Could 
a  human  being  make  a  half  million  in  three  minutes  and 
not  quake  before  emitting  the  exultant  whoop  ?  Rock 
roared.  Fanny  half  smiled.  She  did  not  under 
stand. 

"Five  hundred  shares  at  73!,"  shouted  Sam.  "Some 
body's  swatting  it  for  keeps." 

"Seventy-three  and  five -eighths!"  almost  shrieked 
Mrs.  Collyer.  The  fingers  on  her  right  hand  began  to 
count,  tapping  feverishly  on  her  thumb.  The  fraction 
bothered  her.  How  much  was  five-eighths  of  a  thou 
sand  dollars  ?  How  much  was  even  one-eighth  ? 

Rock  said,  seriously: 

45 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"The  whole  market's  very  weak.  But  Roanoke  will 
come  out  all  right,  Marie.  If  it  goes  any  lower — " 

"You — don't — think — it's  —  going — lower  ?"  whis 
pered  Mrs.  Collyer.  She  had  been  a  tippler  of  the  wine 
of  gambling,  intoxicating  herself  with  counting  and 
spending  the  money  the  marvellous  and  kindly  ticker 
would  surely — oh  yes,  surely! — make  for  her.  Usu 
ally  it  was  only  a  hundred  snares.  This  time  she  had 
plunged  —  this  time  of  all  times!  Plunged,  and  the 
abyss  was  bottomless! 

"It  might.  And  then  we'll  buy  you  another  thou 
sand — " 

"But — "  Mrs.  Collyer  began,  in  consternation.  To 
lose;  that  is  to  say,  to  stop  the  heart's  action  by  means 
of  a  vise  of  frozen  steel,  and  yet  survive!  Man  or 
woman,  hero  or  craven,  there  is  no  intellect  about  it, 
only  the  squeezed  heart  and  the  icy  numbness. 

"And  then  you  stand  to  win  fifty  thousand.  And 
you  will,  too,"  finished  Rock.  He  looked  absolutely 
confident. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  doubtfully.  Fifty 
thousand!  She  began  to  count  on  her  right  hand,  with 
each  motion  of  her  fingers  loosening  the  clutch  of  the 
frozen  steel  vise,  passing  from  doubt  to  delight.  She 
took  a  deep  draught  of  the  wine.  It  went  to  her  head 
in  a  second.  "That  will  be  fine,  Sampson.  We'll  have 
a  nice  celebration — won't  we  ? — when  Roanoke  goes  to 
par!"  Her  voice  rang  triumphantly  and  her  eyes  grew 
misty  as  she  smiled  entrancedly  at  Fanny,  at  Sam,  at 
Sampson  Rock,  at  all  the  world!  Oh,  she  would  make 
them  all  happy  with  the  money!  That  blessed  money 
was  made  to  be  spent  in  happiness.  Nothing  would  be 
extravagant.  That  was  the  surpassing  beauty  of  that 
kind  of  money.  Everything  that  she  could  not  now 

'46 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

afford,  that  was  what  she  would  buy  when  Roanoke 
went  to  par! 

"How  funny  that  sounds — when  Roanoke  goes  to 
par!"  said  Fanny. 

"That's  the  office  slogan,"  smiled  Sampson  Rock. 

"You  don't  understand  business,  my  dear,"  mildly 
snubbed  the  mother.  "Come,"  she  added,  regretfully, 
"we  must  be  going."  And  she  rose,  looking  as  though 
she  would  like  to  be  contradicted.  She  would  have 
liked  to  have  seen  the  actual  minting  of  the  dollars  that 
could  not  be  spent  extravagantly,  whatever  they  might 
be  used  to  buy. 

They  went  out,  all  talking  at  the  same  time,  and 
Rock  returned  to  the  private  office  to  the  watch  of  the 
ticker.  The  general,  while  the  battle  was  waging,  had 
been  without  a  telescope.  Now  he  could  see  how  his 
lieutenants  were  fighting. 


IV 

r"F*HE  battle  was  not  going  as  planned.  Prices  had 
J[  begun  to  rally  ahead  of  time.  They  should  not 
have  shown  resistance  to  the  bear  attack  until  Rock 
himself,  with  his  wise  lack  of  precipitancy,  had  helped 
the  recovery.  It  was  not  a  "drive"  he  had  in  mind, 
but  a  campaign  of  depression. 

Gilmartin,  who  had  duly  sold  his  tip  to  a  half-dozen 
gamblers,  and  then  had  impressively  told  it  in  confi 
dence  to  a  half -hundred  more,  had  written  and  sent  out 
the  following  through  his  news  agency: 

"  The  selling  of  Virginia  Central,  which  is  the  feature  of  the 
market,  has  every  appearance  of  being  by  the  inside  party.  It 
is  understood  that  the  recent  investigation  into  the  affairs  of 
the  company  in  the  interest  of  an  English  syndicate  has  been 
disappointing  to  the  friends  of  the  property.  This  will  make 
it  difficult  to  float  the  ten  million  dollars  of  stock  authorized 
by  the  stockholders  some  time  ago,  but  not  yet  issued.  It  is 
confidently  expected  in  well-informed  circles  that  lower  prices 
for  the  stock  will  be  seen." 

That  item,  and  the  inevitable  verbal  variations  of  it 
in  the  Board  Room,  had  helped  Virginia  Central  to  go 
down;  but  other  financiers  were  not  quite  ready  to  let 
their  own  specialties  decline  just  then,  and  their  sup 
port  had  steadied  the  market.  This  in  turn  frightened 
some  of  the  shorts  in  Virginia  Central,  and  they  began 
to  buy  back  the  stock  they  had  sold  earlier  in  the  day. 

.48 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

The  price  was  rising  once  more.  It  was  46^ — the 
figure  which  Rock  had  told  Dunlap  must  be  the  limit  of 
the  recovery.  Among  others,  Cosmopolitan  Traction 
was  particularly  strong. 

Sam  returned  smiling.  His  father  said,  shortly: 
"Send  those  things  away."  He  pointed  to  the  luggage 
and  the  statufied  messengers. 

Sam  stared  at  his  father;  then  he  smiled  and  an 
swered:  "Very  well,  Dad.  This  is  a  breechlock  of  one 
of  the  Spion  Kop  guns,  supposed  to  have  killed  nobody 
knows  how  many  Englishmen."  He  patted  the  piece 
of  steel  caressingly.  There  was  a  story  to  it — and  to  the 
way  he  secured  it.  It  had  cost  money,  and  insidious 
persuasion,  and  there  had  been  the  risk  of  a  patriotic 
Boer  bullet  or  two. 

But  his  father  said,  curtly,  "Send  it  home."  Not 
so  much  the  luggage,  but  the  presence  of  the  messenger 
boys  and  the  chauffeur  destroyed  his  feeling  of  privacy 
and  annoyed  him. 

"I  wanted  to  talk  to  you,"  remonstrated  Sam. 

"You  don't  need  all  that  truck  to  talk,  do  you? 
Send  it  to  the  house.  You  can  follow  later."  It  was 
not  especially  unpleasant,  the  old  man's  manner;  rather 
it  was  a  sort  of  impersonal  irritation.  He  was  frowning. 

Sam  could  see  that  it  was  at  something  in  the  market. 
The  effect  was  as  of  listening  to  a  voice  without  seeing 
the  speaker's  face.  The  madly  whirring  ticker  was  dis 
charging  psychic  waves  into  the  atmosphere  of  this 
office,  filling  it  with  something  unseen  but  most  curi 
ously  felt.  Sam  knew  that  every  stroke  printed  a  letter 
or  a  figure  that  meant  something  to  thousands  of  watch 
ing  eyes;  and  even  as  this  thought  came  to  him  he 
could  almost  feel  the  unblinking  stare  of  the  hungry  eyes 
which  he  now  remembered  the  ticker  fiends  had.  What- 

49 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

ever  it  was,  that  something  was  visible  and  audible  and 
disturbing  to  his  father.  Dollars  were  being  won  and 
being  lost,  because  somewhere,  in  other  offices,  in  other 
States,  in  other  countries,  human  brains  were  working 
— planning,  scheming,  attacking,  defending,  hoping, 
fearing — somewhere,  everywhere.  To  many,  the  ticker 
might  be  a  roulette- wheel,  the  marker  of  chance  and  its 
caprices.  But  to  a  chosen  few,  the  handful  who  fought 
against  the  mob,  it  meant  far  more — the  success  or  the 
failure  of  great  plans,  the  exact  tonnage  the  tireless 
railroads  were  carrying  or  were  not  carrying,  or  expect 
ed  or  did  not  expect  to  carry,  the  tonnage  that  could 
not  increase  or  decrease  without  the  ticker  telling  of  it. 
The  pulse-beats  of  the  working  world,  that  was  what 
the  ticker-strokes  were.  And  yet  in  the  whirring  and 
the  clicking  of  the  little  wheels  there  rang  the  same 
metallic  note,  the  money-monotone,  the  sound  of  clash 
ing  dollars,  as  if  a  cloud  of  coins  were  rising  and  falling, 
blown  this  way  and  that,  to  and  from  pockets;  and  that 
part  of  it  was  the  least  interesting.  Less  than  thoughts, 
Sam's  mind  for  a  few  seconds  recorded  merely  fleeting 
impressions,  in  seeking  to  establish  the  connection  be 
tween  the  ticker's  message  and  his  father's  ill-humor  and 
his  own  aloofness  from  both.  There  stirred  within  him 
a  vague  feeling  of  uncomfortable  inactivity,  of  being  a 
spectator  at  a  battle  between  his  countrymen  and  a 
foreign  foe.  What  was  his  father  doing  ? 

Sam  turned  suddenly  to  the  chauffeur  he  had  brought 
back  with  him,  and  spoke  some  words  in  French.  The 
man  nodded  carelessly,  whereupon  Sam,  whose  mood 
no  longer  was  careless,  said  two  words  sharply,  and  the 
man  touched  his  cap  with  his  forefinger,  said  "Oui, 
monsieur,"  and  picked  up  a  ridiculous  French  valise 
and  a  small  kit  of  tools.  To  the  messenger  boys  Sam 

5° 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

said:  "Pick  up  those  things,  boys,  and  go  with  this 
man  to  14  East  Seventy-third  Street.  Here's  a  dollar. 
Divide  it  even.  The  cab  is  waiting  down-stairs."  He 
followed  them,  and  at  the  door  said:  "Say,  Val,  pay 
these  chaps,  will  you?"  and  returned  to  his  father. 
But  the  interruption  had  made  his  heart  cease  to  beat 
in  tune  with  the  pulse  of  the  ticker. 

Rock  was  watching  the  tape.  The  tide  was  rising 
when  it  should  have  ebbed.  Virginia  Central  had  sold 
up  to  46$,  notwithstanding  his  instructions  to  Dunlap. 
Other  stocks  were  rising.  He  walked  quickly  to  the 
long  table  and  picked  up  Dunlap 's  telephone. 

"Hello!"  he  said,  sharply.— " Mr.  Dunlap,  at  once!" 
and  waited,  frowning.  Presently:  "Yes — Dan,  this 
won't  do. — Is  that  it? — Well,  deny  it;  it  isn't  true. — I 
want  the  rally  checked.  You  attend  to  Virginia  Cen 
tral.— I'll  do  the  rest. — Sell  ten  thousand. — No!— No! 
— Virginia  Central. — Reduce  the  support  in  Roanoke. 
— Make  it  two  hundred  every  quarter  down  and  two 
thousand  at  seventy-three;  twenty-five  hundred  at 
seventy-two  and  five  thousand  at  seventy-one,  if  it 
should  go  there. — No  use  to  wait  till  the  close." 

He  turned  and  picked  up  another  telephone. 

"Hello?— Mr.  Kirby,  please.— Well,  then,  Mr.  Hig- 
gins. — Hello  ? — Higgins  ? — Rock.  —  Sell  five  thousand 
St.  James — No,  short. — Account  R. — Very  well. — Send 
them  to  Valentine."  He  took  up  a  third  transmitter 
and  said:  "Number  four,  please,  in  a  hurry."  He  wait 
ed,  frowning — not  in  anger,  but  in  thought.  "Willie? 
Listen  carefully. — Sell  five  thousand  each  of  Great 
Southern  preferred,  Broomstick  common,  Allegheny 
Central,  and  Mohawk  Valley. — Give  it  out  to  Meighan 
&  Cross  and  Rivers  &  Dolliver. — It's  supposed  to  be 
very  good  selling.  I'm  glad  you  understand. — No,  no, 

S1 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

borrow  it  privately. — Yes;  I  think  the  market  is  going 
down. — Don't  tell  them  until  after  you  have  sold  out 
mine. — What? — Immediately! — I  want  to  see  you. — 
No  hurry;  after  three  will  do." 

He  rose  and  returned  to  the  watch  of  the  ticker. 

His  father's  words  meant  less  to  Sam  than  his 
father's  look  and  his  father's  voice.  They  impressed 
him  mysteriously,  inarticulately,  more  as  though  the 
spirit  which  animated  this  man  somehow  had  the  power 
to  set  a-quivering  those  little  nerves  that  cause  thrills  in 
us;  and  they  made  him  wonder  if  his  father  were  not, 
after  all,  the  lord  of  the  ticker,  so  that  the  ticker  obe 
diently  repeated  the  message  that  the  master  said 
should  go  forth  to  the  thousands  of  well-dressed  men 
with  hungry  eyes.  To  speak  to  the  world  and  to  have 
the  world  listen — and  shiver  or  exult  as  the  speaker 
willed — that  was  worth  while.  The  man  could  be 
greater  than  the  ticker. 

"I  say,  Dad,"  began  Sam,  admiringly.  He  stopped 
because  he  saw  that  Rock  did  not  hear.  His  com 
mands  were  being  executed,  and  he  was  noting  the 
effect.  Great  Southern  preferred  of  all  others  was  re 
sisting  over  well.  It  ought  to  be  the  chief  loser  if 
Rock  secured  the  Virginia  Central  and  turned  it  over 
to  the  Roanoke.  The  stock  should  reflect  the  loss. 
There  was  not  any  loss  yet ;  but  when  it  came  those  who 
had  taken  time  by  the  forelock — "discounting"  it, 
Wall  Street  calls  it — would  profit. 

Back  to  the  telephone-table. 

"  Hello  ?— Mr.  Cross  ?—  Yes.  —  Cross  ?—  Rock.— Sell 
ten  thousand  Great  Southern  preferred. — At  the  market. 
— Give  it  out  in  one-thousand-share  lots. — At  once. — 
You  ought  to  get  it  off  without  breaking  eighty. — No, 
not  below  eighty. — Borrow  it. — No,  as  openly  as  you 

52 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

can. — They'll  think  it's  surely  long  stock  if  you  are  anx 
ious  to  make  them  think  it's  short  stock.  At  once!" 

Back  to  the  ticker,  one  elbow  leaning  on  the  corner 
of  the  ticker-stand,  tense,  immobile,  watching  the  cas 
cading  tape  intently,  his  soul  and  mind  and  body 
merged  into  a  pair  of  unblinking  eyes  to  which  every 
printed  character  was  full  of  meaning,  surcharged  with 
significance,  eloquent  in  its  directness.  The  first  vol 
ley  had  been  fired  by  Dunlap;  now  Higgins;  Willie  was 
obeying  orders;  Cross  and  his  artillery  had  arrived; 
and  .  .  . 

The  market  began  to  go  his  way.  Blood  was  being 
shed,  and  it  was  golden  blood,  and  he  was  unscathed. 
There  might  be  a  day  of  reckoning  later,  perhaps  to 
morrow;  to-day  there  should  be  one — for  the  bulls. 
He  was  a  leader,  and  the  unattached  soldiers  of  fortune 
— the  " traders" — gathered  under  his  flag  and,  without 
knowing  it,  fought  for  him,  fought  madly  for  dollars — 
more  dollars — even  as  Rock  fought  for  railroads,  more 
railroads  .  .  . 

In  the  big  marble  Board  Room  the  air  was  filled  with 
the  exultant  whoops  of  the  bears  who  were  winning,  the 
maddened  shrieks  of  the  bulls  who  were  losing  and 
would  not  lose  more — the  primal  passions  made  audi 
ble  in  the  discordant  chorus  of  the  dollar-hunters,  made 
visible  about  the  various  "posts"  in  a  sea  of  heads  that 
broke  into  a  foam  of  fists  clinched  and  defiant — with, 
here  and  there,  the  quivering,  outstretched  fingers  of  a 
drowning  man.  And  beside  the  man  who  had  said, 
"Let  there  be  storm,"  out  of  sight  and  out  of  hearing 
of  the  money-mad  mob,  under  its  protecting  glass  dome, 
as  though  it  were  a  fragile  plant,  the  little  ticker  in  this 
office  was  impassively  ticking,  ticking,  ticking! — sing 
ing  its  marvellous  song  of  triumph  and  defeat  in  one; 

53 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

ticking  very  fast  because  it  must  keep  time  to  the  heart 
beats  of  the  mob,  and  the  heart-beats  were  very  fast — 
not  because  men  were  losing  and  men  were  winning,  but 
because  the  world  cannot  stand  still,  but  must  work. 
And  because  men  must  live  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow, 
one  man  would  give  to  men,  to  thousands  of  men,  the 
chance  to  sweat.  That  and  nothing  more  was  what 
Sampson  Rock  would  have  said  he  was  doing  if  he  had 
philosophized  about  it.  It  is  the  autohypnotism  of 
the  great  captains  who  do  not  count  their  dead,  of  the 
other  captains  who,  on  the  battle-field  of  industry, 
count  nothing  but  results — results — results!  Efficien 
cy,  spelled  in  dollars,  because  dollars  are  the  measure 
of  men's  work,  and  therefore  of  the  men  themselves. 
Above  everything,  efficiency — the  great  world's  progress 
and  the  eyes  unwaveringly  fixed  on  the  individual  star. 
Sam  was  again  filled  with  an  exasperating  sense  of 
uselessness  as  he  gazed  on  his  father — an  elbow  resting 
on  one  corner  of  the  ticker-stand,  tense,  immobile, 
something  less  than  human,  something  more  than  hu 
man  about  him,  his  eyes  fixed  hypnotically  on  the 
tape — little  soldier-ants  bearing  tiny  burdens  to  lay  at 
the  feet  of  Sampson  Rock,  the  characters  had  been  an 
hour  before ;  but  now  they  were  shot-scars  on  a  fortress, 
that  told  whether  the  golden  projectiles  discharged  by  a 
human  cannon  had  hit  or  had  missed.  If  a  miss,  there 
were  more  projectiles  to  fire;  if  a  hit,  one  obstacle 
had  been  removed  from  the  path  of  the  Virginia  Central 
Railroad  on  its  way  to  efficiency,  with  Sampson  Rock 
at  the  throttle.  At  least  five  miles  of  the  Biddle- 
boro  division  already  had  been  built.  For  the  price 
of  Virginia  Central  had  yielded.  Soon  Dunlap  would 
begin  to  buy  it,  quietly,  circuitously,  untraceably,  lov 
ing  it  greatly  even  while  cruelly  bludgeoning  it. 

'  54 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Great  Southern  preferred  was  going  down;  now 
eighty-three — eighty-two — eighty-one.  The  last  order 
had  been  just  the  finger-touch  needed  to  push  the 
bowlder  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Eighty  now!  Cross 
could  not  have  sold  the  ten  thousand  shares;  it  had 
taken  less  than  that  to  break  it;  so  much  ammunition 
saved. 

It  was  a  very  weak,  not  a  panicky  market,  the  dif 
ference  between  fear  and  blind  terror.  There  was  no 
ugly  confusion  of  ruin.  A  gambling  foundation  that 
had  taken  two  weeks'  hard  work  to  upbuild  had  been 
razed  in  two  hours  by  a  man  who  risked  a  fraction  of 
his  fortune.  The  effort  of  the  morrow,  for  that  man, 
would  be  to  keep  the  recovery  from  being  too  rapid  or 
too  violent.  And  then,  sentiment  being  unsettled  by 
the  market's  "ominous  lack  of  recuperative  power," 
it  would  be  easy,  by  a  series  of  drives  against  Virginia 
Central,  to  push  the  price  of  that  stock  of  stocks  down 
— the  newspapers  would  help  unwittingly  by  printing 
the  vaporings  of  fools  whose  fears  made  them  garrulous. 
And  then  .  .  . 

Then  the  tape-characters  again  would  become  little 
soldier  -  ants,  gold -laden,  bringing  the  spoils,  grain  by 
grain,  to  Sampson  Rock;  and  Sampson  Rock,  his  eyes 
fixed  steadfastly  on  the  future,  would  be  extending  one 
railroad,  consolidating  two  into  a  great,  a  strong  system, 
transforming  a  wilderness  not  into  a  beautiful  garden, 
but  better — into  pierced  mountains  and  stabbed  hill 
sides  and  furrowed  valleys  under  smoke-clouded  skies, 
the  abode  of  grimy  miners  and  iron-workers  and  of  their 
food-providers  and  clothes-makers,  bringing  to  Virginia 
the  gift  of  life  and  to  these  men  the  gift  of  work,  where 
by  they  might  fill  their  bellies  and  clothe  their  naked 
ness,  and,  also,  love  and  multiply,  to  the  greater  glory 

55 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

of  God.  And  to  the  self  -  hypnotized  Sampson  Rock 
bringing — 

His  only  son  was  before  him. 

Sam  looked  inquiringly  at  Sampson  Rock  as  Samp 
son  Rock  looked  at  his  son,  until  his  mind,  torn  sud 
denly  away  from  the  battle-scenes  of  the  ticker,  won 
dered:  What  if  Sampson  Rock  died  suddenly?  To 
morrow  ?  Next  week  ?  Next  year  ?  Die  he  must,  and 
there  was  Sam,  the  same  Sam  he  had  always  been — the 
same  boy  without  any  thought  of  the  morrow,  without 
the  vision  of  a  life  of  work,  without  the  ears  to  heed  the 
message  of  the  Rock  destiny;  who  had  accomplished 
nothing;  who  might  accomplish — what? 

Sampson  Rock  had  used  the  brain  that  had  been  given 
to  him,  animated  by  the  spirit  that  had  been  born  in 
him — a  spirit  that,  with  the  march  of  the  years,  had 
moved  steadily  in  one  direction  as  inexorably  as  the 
years  themselves  moved  towards  eternity.  Sam  had 
been  his  joy  and  his  wife's,  the  proof  and  reminder  of 
their  love.  But  with  her  death  the  child  had  failed  to 
hold  his  father's  blind  adoration.  The  loss  of  her  was 
too  vast  a  void  for  Sam  to  fill,  and  to  Sampson  Rock 
work,  at  first  a  solace,  became  a  fixed  habit.  To  work 
was  to  think,  to  think  was  to  live.  His  affection  for  his 
son  was  enough  to  supply  the  little  boutonniere  of  love, 
and  that  was  all  the  garden  Rock  needed  or  had  time  to 
think  of.  In  his  half-conscious  search  after  an  excuse 
for  the  exclusion  of  other  human  and  humanizing  de 
sires  he  found  it  in  efficiency.  It  became  the  sole  goal, 
the  excuse,  the  yardstick  of  his  life.  If  a  certain  type 
of  man  can't  use  his  heart  he  must  overwork  his  head 
or  die. 

Never  before  had  Rock  cared  poignantly  that  Sam 
did  not  care  for  his  business.  Some  day  Sam  would. 

56 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Some  day  some  men  will  make  their  wills.  In  grad 
ually  becoming  less  interested  in  the  fluctuations  of 
railroad  stocks  and  more  in  the  railroads  themselves, 
Rock  had  himself  grown  marvellously,  especially  in  the 
last  five  years  of  his  fifty-five;  for  in  the  "hard  times" 
his  brain  and  his  courage  had  found  an  opportunity, 
and  with  the  ending  of  the  commercial  depression,  the 
opportunity  had  burst  into  full  blossom,  as  he  had  ex 
pected.  In  the  stock-market,  while  his  wife  was  alive, 
he  had  found  an  easy  means  of  livelihood.  But  he 
had  come  to  see  in  it  merely  the  means  to  an  end,  until 
his  enemies  reluctantly  called  him  a  reformed  gambler. 
And  because  of  his  own  changed  point  of  view  towards 
business,  and  therefore  towards  life,  he  came  to  realize 
the  brevity  of  the  individual  span.  Having  founded  a 
dollar-dynasty,  he  desired  permanency,  a  work  that 
should  endure,  his  only  immortality.  And  now,  think 
ing  of  his  only  son  as  a  possible  successor,  he  was  not 
comfortable.  His  mind,  enmeshed  in  coils  of  ticker- 
tape,  still  wrapped  in  the  acquisition  and  scientific  de 
velopment  of  the  Virginia  Central,  could  not  solve  in  an 
instant  this  poignant  problem  of  his  heir — the  heir  not 
to  his  money  but  to  his  work,  the  work  that  was  his  soul 
and  should  live  and  wax  greater  after  him.  He  could 
not  expect  Sam,  a  boy  for  all  his  five-and-twenty  years, 
inexperienced  for  all  his  occasional  visits  to  this  office, 
uninterested  because  ignorant,  to  become  at  one  jump 
the  intelligent  lieutenant  of  a  captain  of  industry;  nor 
that  a  trip  around  the  world  should  teach  him  business 
sense  and  Wall  Street  methods  and  the  comprehension 
of  the  work  his  father  had  done,  was  doing,  and  hoped 
to  do.  Nevertheless,  because  he  had  thought  of  Sam 
as  the  future  master  of  the  Roanoke  and  the  pilot  of  its 
destinies,  he  was  disappointed.  There  was  so  much  to 

57 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

do  that  he  could  not  do  it  all ;  he  did  not  wish  so  much  to 
do  it  himself,  but  that  it  should  be  done.  Sam  ought 
to  complete  the  work.  And  Sam — • 

"Damn  it!"  said  Sampson  Rock,  aloud.  He  was 
speaking  to  himself.  He  had  been  alone  a  great  deal. 

The  Lord  of  the  Ticker  was  a  human  being,  after  all. 
The  exclamation  made  Sam  laugh.  He  asked  his  father 
as  he  might  have  asked  a  chum: 

"Market  going  against  you?" 

It  was  asking  it  with  a  carelessness  that  was  not 
intelligent  that  touched  the  raw  spot  and  silenced  the 
ticker.  Rock  said,  very  quietly: 

"Sam,  I  wonder  if  you'll  ever  be  serious?" 

"Serious?  Sure!  Easiest  thing  in  the  world."  Sam 
looked  at  his  father  confidently. 

"Look  here,  Sam,  we  must  have  a  long  talk,  you  and 
I.  You  are  no  longer  a  boy."  Sam  had  some  re 
joinder  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  But  Rock,  to  prevent 
another  cold  shower  from  falling  on  his  dreams  of  the 
Rock  destiny,  went  on,  quickly:  "It's  about  time  you 
did  something — I  don't  care  what ;  but  something,  any 
thing.  Use  your  brains,  if  you  have  any."  Rock 
looked  away;  then  he  looked  at  Sam  steadily. 

Sam  stared  back  at  his  father  in  amazement.  When 
he  answered,  it  was  with  a  sort  of  amiable  acquiescence: 

"I'll  have  to  find  out  about  the  brains.  But  I 
certainly  want  to  do  something.  I  met  a  chap  at 
Cannes  by  the  name  of  Darrell ;  a  mining-engineer  from 
Denver.  Nice  fellow ;  he  rode  with  me  when  I  tried  for 
the  Gordon  Cup.  He's  away  up  in  his  business  and — " 

"What  do  you  want  to  bother  with  mines  for?"  Rock 
interjected  impatiently. 

"What  for?  To  do  something,  of  course.  It's 
better  than  doing  nothing,  isn't  it  ?  I'd  like  to  go  West. 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Do  you  want  me  to  go  in  for  that  ?"  He  pointed  to  the 
ticker. 

"It's  my  business.  It  ought  to  be  yours."  Rock's 
lips  were  pressed  together.  The  ticker  was  whirring 
and  clicking  away  madly — unheeded. 

"Don't  like  it;  never  did,"  said  Sam,  shortly. 

"You  know  nothing  about  it,"  retorted  Rock,  im 
patiently.  "You  never  will,  probably.  But  I'll  be 
satisfied  if  you  realize  that  you  are  no  longer  a  boy. 
Do  you  think  you  do  realize  it?"  Rock  evidently  was 
not  convinced  at  all. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Sam,  so  slowly  as  to  convey  an  im 
pression  of  premeditation.  "I  realize  it  as  well  as  I 
realize  that  if  I  went  into  your  business  I'd  lose  my 
temper  too  many  times  a  minute.  No,  thanks.  The 
simple  life  for  mine." 

Absence  had  blurred  the  outlines  of  Sam's  image  of 
Sampson  Rock,  making  the  colors  softer  and  more 
beautiful — a  trick  that  absence,  like  death,  is  apt  to 
play  with  affection.  The  sneering  incredulity  of  Samp 
son  Rock,  therefore,  seemed  so  uncharacteristic  as  to 
come  as  an  unpleasant  surprise,  and  it  stung  Sam's 
temper  into  a  quick  rise.  But  the  sting  was  not  deep, 
and  Sam  smiled,  a  trifle  forgivingly — it  was  the  ticker 
game  that  made  his  father  unamiable;  he  said,  concili- 
atingly: 

"I'm  too  old  to  begin  as  office-boy  now.  That's 
what  you  ought  to  have  done  with  me,  if  you  wanted 
me  to  become  a  great  man.  But  never  mind,  Dad.  Sup 
pose  we  talk  it  over  in  words  of  one  syllable  ?  I'll  listen." 

Sam's  very  words  betrayed  the  absence  of  genuine 
intimacy  between  father  and  son.  Both  were  older; 
each  knew  it,  and  neither  admitted  it  to  the  other  in 
their  speech. 

s  59 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

The  telephone-bell  in  Rock's  desk  rang  impatiently. 
Sam  felt  that  the  man  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  was 
in  a  hurry.  It  made  him  notice  which  telephone  it  was. 
He  said:  "Let  me  answer  that  for  you.  Try  me." 

"This  isn't  play,"  retorted  Sampson  Rock  brusquely. 
He  went  swiftly  to  the  table  and  took  up  the  in 
strument. 

"Hello! — Who? — How  are  you,  Tuttle ?— Virginia 
Central?  I  don't  know  anything  about. — You  heard 
I  was  selling  it? — Well,  you  know,  Dunlap  has  other 
customers  besides  myself. — Eight  thousand  shares? — 
What  did  you  pay? — Oh,  the  deuce! — That  was  pretty 
high,  but  it  probably  will  sell  up  there  again  some  time. 
— Robinson  meant  well  by  his  advice,  I  suppose.  Are 
you  sure  you  know  whose  stock  it  was  you  bought  ? — 
I  don't  mean  to  suggest  he  sold  out  on  you,  but — .  I 
really  can't  say. — I  don't  feel  like  giving  you  any  ad 
vice,  Tuttle.  The  market  looks  pretty  sick  to  me,  but 
there  ought  to  be  a  rally. — Yes,  yes;  I  remember  what 
you  did  for  me  last  year. — Of  course,  if  you  put  it  that 
way,  I'll  give  you  my  opinion.  It's  only  my  opinion, 
remember. — I  firmly  believe  Virginia  Central  is  going 
down. — Oh,  several  points! — Well,  I  myself  haven't 
as  much  of  it  now  as  I  had  last  week. — Don't  repeat 
this,  will  you? — Good-bye,  old  man. — Don't  mention 
it. — Nonsense . — Good-bye. ' ' 

He  put  down  the  transmitter,  hung  up  the  receiver 
in  the  hook  and  ran  to  the  long  table.  He  took  up  the 
last  instrument.  Sam  was  watching  and  listening  in 
tently.  He  was  more  than  eighteen  now. 

' '  Hello !  Hello ! ' '  Rock  said,  impatiently.  ' '  Are  you 
asleep? — Mr.  Chase,  at  once. — Hello!  Chase? — Go  in 
and  offer  down  five  thousand  shares  of  Virginia  Central. 
— Pratt  will  buy  it  from  you. — Wait  until  he  gets  there 

60 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

before  you  begin."  He  put  down  the  telephone;  took 
up  the  one  next  to  it  and  spoke,  sharply:  "Mr.  Pratt! 
— Yes,  hurry  up!  Hello!  Hello!"  he  almost  shrieked 
in  his  anger.  Seconds  counted.  "Hello,  Pratt! — This 
is  S.  R. — Archie  Chase  has  an  order  to  sell  five  thousand 
Virginia  Central  as  low  as  he  can. — You  buy  it  all  and — 
Listen! — A  customer  of  Hardwick,  Bunner  &  Co.  is 
going  to  sell  eight  thousand. — They'll  probably  sell 
more;  they  have  quite  a  lot  in  their  office.  Take  every 
share. — Don't  let  one  get  away  from  you. — Clear  it 
yourself. — Hurry ! ' ' 

He  hastened  to  the  ticker  and  gazed  intently  at  the 
tape.  Sam  knew  enough  of  the  stock-market  to  un 
derstand  what  had  happened.  Chase  would  sell  five 
thousand  shares  as  low  as  he  could,  as  though  he  were 
executing  an  order  for  a  panic-stricken  client,  instead 
of  a  manipulative  order  from  Sampson  Rock,  who 
would  buy  the  same  stock  from  himself  through  Pratt 
— Chase  would  see  to  it  that  of  all  the  brokers  who 
might  be  buying,  it  would  be  Pratt  who  got  the  stock — 
which  was  a  violation  of  the  Stock  Exchange  rules,  as 
well  as  of  the  rules  of  fair  play.  It  would  depress 
the  price  so  that  by  the  time  Tuttle's  eight  thousand 
shares  came  to  be  sold,  Tuttle  would  find  a  weak  and 
lower  market;  the  stock  would  be  sacrificed,  and  his 
father  would  get  it  cheap.  There  was  no  sense  in  think 
ing  of  his  working  in  Wall  Street.  He  would  not.  He 
might  as  well  make  it  clear  to  his  father  now,  once  and 
for  all.  But  there  came  to  him  a  sudden  desire  to  make 
sure  first,  in  order  to  be  both  just  and  intelligent.  He 
asked: 

"Father,  is  this  man  Tuttle  a  friend  of  yours?" 
Sampson  Rock,  not  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  tape, 
nodded.     He  had  no  time  to  do  anything  else — Chase 

61 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

and  Pratt  evidently  had  sprinted  from  the  telephone 
booths  to  the  Virginia  Central  post — the  stock  was 
breaking  half  a  point  at  a  time.  And  here  came  twenty 
five  hundred  shares  at  44 — three  thousand  at  43! — two 
thousand  at  43  J.  Tuttle's  stock  was  changing  ownership. 

Sam  saw  no  reason  now  for  restraint  of  speech.  He 
did  not  even  think  of  such  restraint.  His  father's 
acknowledgment  of  friendship  for  the  man  who  had 
rung  the  telephone-bell  so  impatiently  that  Sam  could 
tell  by  the  sound  he  was  in  a  hurry,  made  the  hot  disgust 
he  had  felt  become  cold  and  compact — the  phenomenon 
of  molten  iron  cooling.  He  said:  "He  asks  your  ad 
vice.  You  give  it.  Sell  out !  Your  brokers  hammer 
the  price  down — " 

Sampson  Rock  held  up  a  hand  to  command  silence 
while  he  kept  his  eyes  unblinkingly  on  the  tape,  unable 
to  turn  his  head  at  that  moment;  but  Sam  went  on: 

"And  then  you  rake  in  friend  Tuttle's  stock  at  bar 
gain-prices.  That's  to  pay  friend  Tuttle  for  the  favor 
he  did  you  last  year.  Great  game,  that!  It's  a  sin  not 
to  make  money  if  people  throw  it  at  you  when  you  tell 
them  to.  But  me  for  the  mines,  with  my  friend 
Darrell,"  he  finished  with  a  resolute  look. 

"Forty-two  and  one-half,  seven-eighths;  three;  a 
quarter;  three-eighths;  a  half!  All  over.  They  got  it!" 
muttered  Rock.  He  looked  up,  and  seeing  Sam's  eyes 
gazing  steadily  at  him,  remarked,  absently:  "She  went 
down  fast !"  His  thoughts  were  on  the  stock.  But  of  a 
sudden  he  remembered  that  he  had  heard  Sam  speaking 
to  him,  and  then  he  was  conscious  of  groping  in  his 
mind  for  the  words  that  his  ears  had  heard,  until  they 
came  back  to  him.  His  face  flushed  slightly;  and  he 
said,  with  an  unpleasant  calmness  that  might  have 
frightened  a  man  less  like  himself  than  his  son: 

'  62 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"The  price  is  going  down.  I'm  going  to  put  it  down 
and  he'll  save  a  great  deal  of  money.  He  gets  forty- 
three  for  it  by  selling  now,  but  I'm  going  to  make  it  sell 
at  thirty  before  I'm  done." 

"The  price  is  not  going  to  stay  at  thirty,  and  you 
know  it."  Sam's  chin  was  thrust  forward  and  he 
looked  unblinkingly  at  his  father. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  Rock's  voice  was 
still  unpleasantly  calm.  It  was  manifestly  impossible 
for  a  stock-market  general  to  take  the  entire  stock- 
gambling  world  into  his  confidence.  That  was  so 
obvious  as  to  require  no  demonstration.  But  to  Sam 
his  father's  composure  was  so  suggestive  of  an  utter 
absence  of  remorse  that  he  retorted:  "It's  got  every 
thing  to  do  with  it.  And  after  you  scoop  it  in,  what's 
the  next  chapter?" 

"It  goes  into  the  Roanoke  &  Western — " 

"At  thirty,  of  course,"  Sam  nodded,  in  sarcastic 
self  -  felicitation.  "That's  where  the  philanthropy 
comes  in." 

Rock's  face  became  livid.  Sam's  speech  was  not 
all;  there  was  also  Sam's  exasperating  ignorance. 

"It's  worth  more  to  the  Roanoke  than  to  any  one 
else  and  they'll  gladly  pay  a  fair  price,"  he  answered, 
the  business  end  of  it  before  his  mind.  Then  he  added: 
"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  It  is  a 
bad  habit  of  yours  and  the  sooner  you  lose  it  the  better." 

"To  profit  as  an  individual  first;  then  as  one  of  several 
stockholders  of  the  Roanoke.  Yes;  that's  a  good  pay 
ing  habit.  I  guess  I'll  go  into  mines  and  lose  some  of 
your  money  for  you  for  a  change.  Or  I  might  just 
keep  on  running  over  people  with  my  new  machine. 
I'll  give  'em  as  much  chance  for  their  skins  as  if  they 
were  in  Wall  Street." 

63 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"You  jackass!"  said  Sampson  Rock,  his  fists  clinch 
ed,  his  eyes  burning.  "Do  you  know  what  I'm  going 
to  do?"  Some  of  the  newspapers  might  editorialize 
their  disapproval  of  his  methods  in  Sam's  words,  but 
that  wouldn't  annoy  him  after  the  deal  was  over.  To 
have  his  own  son  permit  himself  opinions  born  of  crass 
ignorance  angered  him  for  many  reasons. 

"Yes,  I  know.  A  jackass  couldn't  help  knowing. 
It's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  You  are  going 
to  make  money  by  doing  things  I  wouldn't  do,"  an 
swered  Sam.  The  Old  Man's  face  did  not  frighten  him, 
but  after  he  had  spoken  it  softened  his  own  heart.  He 
had  evidently  shaken  the  Old  Man's  very  soul.  For 
that  he  felt  sorry.  It  deepened  his  affection,  but  it  did 
not  weaken  his  conviction  that  it  was  not  a  square 
game. 

"You  wouldn't  because  you  couldn't,"  said  Sampson 
Rock,  his  voice  husky  with  passion.  His  soul  was 
flooded  with  a  light  that  made  him  see  what  he  sin 
cerely  thought  was  the  truth  about  himself,  crystallized 
and  sharp  of  outline,  as  many  men  see  it  only  when  they 
feel  themselves  misjudged.  It  was  not  the  practical 
dreamer,  not  the  stock-gambler  nor  the  railroad-builder 
that  spoke,  but  a  man  with  a  ruling  passion  goaded  into 
defending  himself  and  his  steady  march  towards  a  goal, 
driven  into  an  audible  soliloquy. 

"You  wouldn't  because  you  couldn't,"  he  repeated. 
"I  am  going  to  get  control  of  that  railroad  because  it's 
feeble,  stunted  by  lack  of  brains,  mismanaged  by  in 
competents.  This  world  has  no  room  for  incompetents. 
The  weak  must  go  to  the  wall  that  the  strong  may  live 
and  grow  stronger!" 

"Why  must  they?"  interjected  Sam,  sharply.  In  his 
father's  face  he  saw  a  ruthlessness  so  unreasonable  that 

64 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

he  clinched  his  fists  and  felt  like  fighting  for  the  weak 
— an  appeal  from  Philip  drunk  to  Philip  sober  rather 
than  unfilial  hostility. 

"Why?"  Sampson  Rock's  echoing  monosyllable 
was  almost  a  snarl;  the  upper  lip  rose,  exposing  the 
teeth.  "Because  they  are  useless;  they  are  the  dogs 
in  the  manger  of  this  world.  They  obstruct  progress. 
They  interfere.  They  have  no  right  to  live  if  it  means 
to  stand  in  the  way  and  keep  others  from  working. 
Dogs  in  the  manger!" 

"Tough  on  the  dogs.  I  suppose  they  interfere  with 
that  ?"  Sam  pointed  to  the  ticker.  "They  keep  other 
people  from  making  money.  Off  with  their  heads! 
They're  in  the  way!" 

Making  money — that  was  the  crime  the  mob  always 
imputed  to  the  men  who  did  good  work.  Rock  almost 
shouted:  "Do  you  think  it's  only  on  the  Stock  Ex 
change  that  my  work  shows  ? — or  in  my  bank  account 
alone?  What  do  I  care  for  that!  But  I  tell  you — 
you  ! — that  it  is  going  to  show  in  Virginia,  in  the  coal 
mines  that  I  shall  buy  and  the  manufacturing  towns 
that  I'll  develop  and  the  seaports  that  I'll  open.  I'm 
going  to  make  money — lots  of  it.  And  I'll  pay  for  it 
by  giving  to  Virginia  better  and  cheaper  transportation 
than  she  has  now,  or  ever  has  had;  and  that  will  mean 
growth,  business,  more  wages  to  more  people — there, 
in  Virginia,  and  here  and  in  Europe  and  all  over  the 
world.  It  won't  mean  that  I  —  your  father  —  have 
cheated  people  out  of  some  stock,  but  that  Sampson 
Rock,  with  his  brains,  has  done  something  to  make  his 
country  richer  and  greater,  to  make  his  fellow-men — 
thousands  of  them,  hundreds  of  thousands  of  them — 
earn  a  better  living.  The  making  of  money  is  nothing. 
The  doing  of  the  thing— that's  the  thing!  And  I'll 

65 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

do  it  because  it's  my  duty,  because  I  can  do  it  and  they 
can't!  Bet  on  fluctuations?  I  make  them  in  order  to 
carry  out  my  plans.  And  if  stock-gamblers  are  crushed 
and  incompetents  are  killed,  it  is  because  the  world 
must  go  forward.  It's  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  and 
7  am  the  fittest!  I'll  get  that  road  and  I'll  extend  it, 
and  I'll  merge  it  with  mine,  no  matter  who  stands  in  the 
way,  because  I'll  use  it  better  than  he  can,  and  I  know 
it.  What's  this  man's  eight  thousand  shares  alongside 
the  bread-and-butter  of  eighty  thousand  people  ?  Make 
money  ?  Of  course  I  make  money — for  good  work  well 
done.  And  you  ?  How  much  have  you  earned  all  your 
life  ?  How  much  can  you  earn  ?  What  work  can  you 
do  ?  The  next  time  you  talk  to  me  about  my  business," 
he  finished,  with  the  usual  anticlimax  of  real  life,  "get 
facts!" 

Sam's  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes,  wide  open  with 
amazement,  stared  at  his  father.  The  resistless  ener 
gy  of  the  Old  Man's  words  almost  gave  him  a  sense  of 
physical  fatigue.  The  glimpse  of  a  naked  soul  had 
startled  him  even  while  his  kinship  with  that  soul — 
the  soul  of  a  fighter — had  made  him  glow  with  a  vague 
feeling  of  admiration,  in  the  wake  of  which  came  a 
certain  uneasiness  at  possibly  having  misread  and  mis 
judged.  He  was  certain  his  father  had  told  the  truth 
as  he  saw  it,  but  somewhere,  he  also  felt,  there  was  an 
undetermined  fallacy.  The  frank  ruthlessness  of  a 
strong  man  was  not  pleasant.  A  man  need  not  be  an 
idealist,  but  neither  need  he  be  a  mucker.  Every 
man  could  be  square.  The  world  must  go  forward 
without  regard  to  the  individual;  but  railroads  didn't 
have  to  be  extended  over  the  corpses  of  those  who  were 
not  born  strong,  whose  financial  weapons  were  as 
straws  against  the  bludgeon  of  Rock's  millions.  A 

*  66 


I 

SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

captain  of  finance  must  work  and  be  paid;  he  might 
take,  but  he  must  also  give.  And  this  captain  of 
finance,  who  glorified  strength,  to  whom  the  individual 
was  nothing  and  work  everything,  was  his  father,  his 
own  flesh  and  blood — he  took  and  he  said  he  gave. 
Was  the  exchange  fair?  Sam  was  now  not  sure  that 
it  was  not. 

Sampson  Rock  was  looking  at  the  ticker,  but  his  mind 
was  elsewhere ;  his  heart  was  beating  too  fast ;  the  tape 
was  merely  a  strip  of  paper  with  meaningless  figures 
on  it.  He  drew  in  a  deep  breath,  muttered  "Bosh!" 
and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room. 

His  son  approached  him  and  stood  squarely  before 
him,  so  that  Rock  had  to  stop.  He  glared  at  his  son; 
but  there  was  a  resolute  look  on  Sam's  face  as  he  held 
out  his  hand,  man  to  man,  and  said,  "I'll  get  facts  be 
fore  I  talk  to  you  about  your  business  again."  It  was 
not  a  menacing  tone,  but  a  judicial  one.  It  conveyed  a 
subtle  sense  of  conditional  apology — should  he  have 
been  mistaken. 

Sampson  Rock  looked  at  Sam  keenly.  This  boy 
was  his  heir ;  but  he  was  more ;  he  was  Her  son.  He  had 
Her  mouth.  And  because  of  it  the  father  suddenly  felt 
the  blood-relationship,  with  his  heart  as  well  as  with 
his  head.  He  shook  hands  and  said,  so  very  gruffly 
that  it  meant  something  else,  "I  should  also  have 
mentioned  common-sense,  if  you  can  get  that."  In 
thinking  only  of  the  boy  and  not  of  the  heir,  Sampson 
Rock  ceased  to  be  an  efficiency-mad  captain  of  finance 
and  became  a  father,  his  affection  growing  stronger 
with  each  breath. 

Sam  retorted,  "Well,  I  ought  to;  I'll  work  hard; 
and  then,  I  am  your  son,  Dad."  It  was  no  longer  man 
to  man  with  Sam,  but  son  to  father,  and  Rock  was  con- 

67 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

scious  of  it,  and  conscious  that  he  had  already  forgiven 
the  offence  and  the  ignorance. 

When  Sam  was  a  child  and  misbehaved  his  mother 
used  to  say,  proudly,  "Come  and  see  what  your  son 
has  done !"  Rock  remembered  now,  a  sturdy  little  chap, 
full  of  life  and  whimsical  child-ideas.  .  .  . 

Sampson  Rock  said:  "And  your  mother's,  too, 
Sammy.  Your  mother's,  too." 

He  looked  steadily  at  Sam,  and  it  came  to  him  that 
this  was  the  boy  she  had  loved  so  much  that  when  she 
went  she  thought  not  of  his  son  but  of  hers.  On  her 
death -bed,  that  gray  Sabbath  dawn,  she  had  said: 
"My  boy,  my  darling  boy,  I  can't  leave  you!  I  can't! 
I  can't!"  And  little  Sam  was  not  there  at  all  while 
"big"  Sam  stood  beside  her,  holding  her  hand,  in  plain 
sight  of  her  so  that  she  could  have  thought  what  it 
meant  to  leave  Mm.  Only  of  little  Sam  she  thought,  of 
her  beautiful  little  son — "Come  and  see  what  your 
son  is  doing,  Daddy!"  And  this  was  her  son  and  his, 
heart  of  her  heart,  love  of  her  love.  He  had  her  mouth, 
so  that  his  smile  was  her  smile.  .  .  . 

The  tone  in  which  his  father  spoke  about  his  mother 
made  Sam  approach  him,  his  mind  silenced,  his  heart 
eloquent.  But  Sampson  Rock,  American  by  birth  and 
undemonstrative  by  nature,  disregarded  the  hand  which 
his  son — his  son — penitently  held  out  to  him  and  in 
stead  kissed  her  son  on  the  cheek.  He  moved  away 
quickly,  and  said,  very  quietly:  "Go  home  and  see  to 
your  things,  Sammy.  And  hunt  me  up  at  the  Union 
Club  at  five,  won't  you?" 

He  walked  to  the  ticker  and  began  to  study  the  tape. 

Sammy  closed  the  mouth  that  sheer  amazement  had 
pried  open;  then  opened  it  again,  and,  forgetting  all 
about  the  unfair  game  of  the  ticker  and  the  self- 

68 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

apologies  of  its  votaries,  and  thinking  remorsefully  of 
an  affection  greater  than  his  own,  saw  only  the  father 
before   him.     Throwing   an   arm  protectingly   around 
that  father,  he  said,  reassuringly: 
"You  are  all  right,  Dad!" 


THEIR  first  evening  together  was  less  satisfactory 
than  Sam  had  anticipated,  because  several  of 
Rock's  Wall  Street  friends  at  the  club  did  what  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  doing  nightly — sat  down  to  talk 
with  him.  Rock  had  not  thought  of  a  special  dinner 
in  honor  of  Sam's  return,  as  Sam's  mother  would  have 
done,  but,  like  Sam,  he  had  meant  to  dine  at  home. 
The  decision  to  remain  at  the  club  seemed  to  have  been 
forced  upon  him  by  the  intrusive  friends.  Sam  him 
self  had  not  attached  a  symbolical  meaning  to  a  dinner 
of  father  and  son  in  the  home  that  should  have  brought 
to  them  a  sense  of  their  blood-relationship  and  its 
sentimental  obligations,  but  he  had  hoped  to  learn 
more  about  his  father's  work  and  plans  and  intentions 
and  their  possible  bearing  upon  his  own  future.  He 
resented  the  club  dinner,  which  was  too  much  like  the 
hotel  life  of  which  he  had  grown  weary  in  his  travels, 
and  was  irritated  by  the  feeling  that  his  desired  con 
versation  with  his  father  had  been  postponed  by  the 
ticker.  It  was  the  ticker  that  almost  had  parted  them, 
that  interfered  even  after  Stock  Exchange  hours  with 
the  free  sway  of  their  mutual  affection. 

He  found  the  Wall  Street  men  very  uninteresting; 
probably  his  irritation  over  their  intrusion  helped,  but 
he  vaguely  had  expected  to  find  them  unusual  types. 
Instead  they  were  quite  as  commonplace  as  men  whose 

70 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

names    never    appeared    in    the    newspapers.     Their 
stories  were  not  amusing,  their  observations  on  men 
and  manners  were  not  particularly  profound  and  very 
decidedly    not    original.     The    human    factor    in    the 
business  equation,  to  which  Sam  attached  a  new  im 
portance  since  his  father's  speech,  these  men  in  their 
conversation  seemed  utterly  to  disregard,  to  the  ex 
tent  of  almost  making  Sam  feel  like  a  theorist  or  a 
school -boy.     When  they  spoke,  in  general   terms,  of 
some  vast  deal  or  another — which,  to  do  them  justice, 
was  only  at  intervals — he  was  so  impressed  by  the 
disappointing  lack  of  mysteriousness  of  the  procedure 
that  he  concluded  that  their  business  operations,  for  all 
their  glamour,  were  like  any  other  business  operations, 
plain,  simple,  a  matter  of  the  mathematics  of  obvious 
common-sense,  neither  conceived  by  an  inspiration  nor 
executed  with  especial  subtlety  or  adroitness,  each  of 
these  men  being  merely  the  shopkeeper  raised  to  the 
millionth-dollar  power.      The  glamour  came  from  the 
amount  of  cash  involved;  and  if  they  thought  nothing 
of  risking  one  million,  it  was  because  they  had  many 
of  them;  their  courage,  therefore,  was  neither  thrilling 
nor  inspiring.     And  his  father,  Sam  observed  with  a 
half -protesting  amazement,  was  as  uninteresting  and 
unepigrammatic,   as   non  -  spectacular    as   the    others. 
Was  it  a  pose,  this  deadly  dulness  ?     Did  these  world- 
famous  capitalists,  for  supremely  shrewd  business  rea 
sons,  wear  a  mask  ?     Were  there  subtle  significances  to 
read  between  the  lines  of  their  speech  ? 

Commodore  Roberts,  the  man  who  had  made  a  fabu 
lous  fortune  in  leather  and  had  trebled  it  in  industrial 
consolidations,  and  then  had  sextupled  it  in  railroads  un 
til  he  controlled — absolutely,  the  newspapers  averred 
— the  third  largest  railway  system  in  the  world,  was  a 

71 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

short,  fat  man,  bald,  with  a  little  gray  mustache  that 
was  as  a  label  insistently  spelling  commonplaceness. 
He  had  a  chronic  smirk  and  deep  crow's-feet — one  of 
those  irritating  fat  old  men  who  smile  with  their  eyes 
also — and  he  laughed  at  his  own  insipid  jokes.  And 
the  smiles  of  his  punctiliously  attentive  hearers  were 
not  pleasant  to  see  among  social  equals  at  the  Union 
Club.  Sam  heard  with  pleasure  his  father  grunt  from 
time  to  time — non-committal  grunts,  to  be  sure,  and 
not  rude  enough  to  be  entirely  satisfying,  but,  never 
theless,  not  smiles.  The  Commodore  took  to  telling 
his  "jokes"  to  that  bright  -  looking  son  of  Sampson 
Rock,  and  Sam  laughed  —  at  Roberts's  selection  of  a 
victim — until  the  Commodore  looked  pleased  at  the 
triumph  of  his  humor. 

Of  them  all,  Sampson  Rock  alone  looked  like  a  great 
captain  of  finance,  and  he  was  probably  the  least  rich  of 
the  crowd — a  good-looking  chap,  the  governor;  not  so 
tall  as  Sam  by  an  inch,  nor  so  square  of  shoulders,  and 
rounder  about  the  waist;  but  his  face  was  healthy- 
looking,  strong,  and  intelligent,  and  his  eyes  were  the 
eyes  of  a  man  who  could  think  and  who  could  fight. 
At  times  they  seemed  to  film  over  with  a  curious  im 
personal  coldness  as  though  he  saw  little  difference  be 
tween  inanimate  objects  and  human  beings. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Sam  had  tried  to  establish 
a  connection  between  what  the  newspapers  say  a  man 
is  and  what  he  looks.  It  interested  him  for  a  time, 
but  it  soon  palled.  Their  discussion  of  affairs  did  not 
savor  of  a  conspiracy;  they  were  not  loading  the  dice 
the  newspapers  said  they  used  when  they  played  the 
stock-market;  and  to  escape  Commodore  Roberts's 
jokes  he  excused  himself  early  and  drove  to  the  Van 
Courtlandt- Joneses'  to  see  Fanny  Collyer. 

•    72 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

The  man  whose  life  he  had  saved  at  college — Francis 
Van  Courtlandt- Jones,  now  an  active  stock-broker  and 
only  a  year  older  than  Sam — to  whom  he  had  tele 
phoned  that  afternoon,  had  implored  him  to  come  to 
the  dinner,  an  informal  affair — only  fourteen  and  all 
old  friends.  But  Sam  had  declined;  it  was  his  first 
night  back  and  he  would  dine  at  home  with  his  father ; 
but  he  would  be  around  in  time  for  the  dance.  There 
were  many  questions  he  wished  to  ask  his  father,  but 
he  wished  to  ask  them  alone.  Roberts  and  the  others 
being  in  the  way,  he  would  do  his  asking  on  the  morrow. 
The  more  he  saw  of  Wall  Street  men  the  better  he 
liked  Darrell,  the  Western  mine  engineer. 

The  fourteen  old  friends  were  still  at  the  table,  but 
they  welcomed  him  effusively.  The  host,  having  fore 
seen  such  a  stroke  of  luck,  as  he  called  it,  had  given 
orders  that  Mr.  Rock  should  not  be  allowed  to  wait  in 
the  drawing-room.  They  were  all  men  and  girls  he 
knew  well,  and  absence  seemed  to  have  made  these 
fond  hearts  grow  fonder.  Sam  was  more  interesting 
for  having  circled  the  world  in  eighteen  months,  just 
as  his  father  had  trebled  his  fortune  in  Sam's  absence. 
They  all  liked  him  for  himself  and  his  twenty-five  years. 
Three  of  them,  two  brokers  and  one  female,  liked  him 
for  his  father  and  his  fifty-five.  Sampson  Rock's  age 
meant  something  to  them  since  a  magazine  sketch 
appraised  those  fifty-five  years  at  a  half -million  each. 
It  was  a  gorgeous  overestimate.  But  those  colleagues 
of  his  who  knew  better  did  not  enlighten  the  public. 
They  themselves  lived  in  glass  houses  gilded  to  re 
semble  multi-millions.  The  overestimates  helped  them 
all.  Prestige  is  potential  cash;  and  cash,  actual  or 
potential,  is  power;  and  power  is  real  cash. 

These  young  old  friends  did  not  talk  like  the  over- 

73 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

estimated  multi-millionaires.  They  had  their  cares 
and  their  tragedies.  But  as,  during  the  Terror,  the 
young  aristocrats  of  France  walked  gracefully  to  the 
guillotine  and  smilingly  "tipped"  the  executioner,  so 
did  these  laugh — at  punctured  automobile  tires  and 
at  misjudged  horse-races  and  at  offended  rich  aunts. 
That  had  been  his  life,  before  he  started  on  his  round- 
the-world  trip. 

He  saw  less  of  Fanny  than  he  had  intended  to  see. 
She  was  looking  extremely  pretty,  he  again  thought. 
Certainly  she  had  improved  in  his  absence.  But  he 
could  not  talk  to  her  because  everybody  insisted  upon 
his  telling  them  stories,  and  they  listened  so  attentive 
ly  that  the  mild  elation  he  felt  at  interesting  them 
made  him  talk  well  and  feel  very  friendly  towards 
them. 

But  as  he  went  home  some  hours  later  the  very  dis 
similarity  between  the  two  lives — his  old  life  with  these 
people  and  his  father's  life  in  Wall  Street — made  his 
thoughts  recur  to  the  ticker  and  the  words  of  the  ticker 
and  the  words  of  the  men  who  lived  by  the  ticker.  It 
was  a  great  game.  There  might  be  ways  of  playing  it 
like  a  gentleman;  of  getting  all  the  excitement  without 
the  unpleasant  after-taste.  He  did  not  fully  under 
stand  its  functions  as  an  adjunct  to  railroad  improve 
ment  and  to  industrial  development.  He  might  learn. 
But  the  romance  of  the  West,  the  life  of  the  mining- 
camp,  was  far  more  alluring.  It  was  easier  to  under 
stand.  The  excitement  of  it  was  healthier. 

Sampson  Rock  was  already  studying  the  ticker  and 
scooping  in  Virginia  Central  when  Sam  awoke  the  next 
day.  He  had  invited  himself  to  luncheon  at  Mrs. 
Collyer's,  and  he  was  too  busy  looking  after  his  martial 

74 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

bric-a-brac  —  poisoned  daggers,  wonderful  old  pistols, 
blood-rusted  spears,  which  he  had  accumulated  in  his 
travels — to  think  about  Sampson  Rock's  work.  He 
had  some  really  remarkable  ivory  carvings  which  he 
had  picked  up  in  Delhi  for  Mrs.  Collyer,  and  two  per 
fectly  matched  pearls  he  had  bought  at  Aden  from 
a  Persian  Gulf  man  who  wanted  to  put  ten  thousand 
miles  or  more  between  himself  and  the  fisheries.  He 
had  paid  a  round  price  for  them.  Darrell,  his  Denver 
friend,  who  was  a  perfect  crank  on  gems,  assured  him 
he  had  not  paid  a  tenth  of  what  such  pearls  were  worth 
in  New  York,  but  it  only  struck  him  now  that  the  real 
story  was  the  anxiety  of  the  man  who  sold  them  to  him. 
He  had  put  the  pearls  unwrapped  in  his  vest-pocket  at 
Quarantine  and  had  forgotten  to  "declare"  them.  It 
would  please  him  to  give  the  smuggled  pearls  to  Fanny, 
because  they  were  very  beautiful  and  because  they  had 
been  such  a  bargain. 

Mrs.  Collyer  was  delighted  with  Sam's  gift.  She 
handled  the  ivories  as  she  had  seen  that  eccentric  old 
Bleecker  Fish  examine  his  own  choice  carvings,  plagiar 
izing,  as  closely  as  she  remembered,  old  Fish's  learned 
words.  Sam,  who  knew  nothing  about  ivories,  said, 
"I'm  so  glad  you  like  them,"  from  time  to  time,  as 
though  that  had  been  his  one  hope.  When  the  flood 
moderated  he  turned  to  Fanny. 

' '  I  was  so  rushed  that  I  didn't  have  time  to  get  what 
I  wanted  for  you — " 

"Excuses!"  smiled  Fanny.  "But  never  mind,  Sam. 
You  brought  yourself  back." 

"I  had  your  joy  in  mind  all  the  time;  that's  why  I 
was  so  careful  of  myself." 

"And  you  brought  the  ivories  to  mamma,"  added 
Fanny,  gratefully. 

6  75 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Just  what  I  wished  he'd  bring  me,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Collyer,  with  the  effect  of  an  echo. 

1 '  But  I  thought  you  and  I  might  play  marbles  again 
as  we  used  to  do,  so  I  brought  back  these."  Sam  took 
the  pearls  from  his  vest-pocket  and  made  a  motion  to 
toss  them  to  her. 

"Catch,  Fanny!"  he  said;  but  he  laid  them  on  her 
out-stretched  hands. 

"Sam!"  said  Fanny,  with  a  gasp.  "Mamma,  look 
at  these.  No,  no,  let  me  look  at  them  some  more! 
Are  they  really  for  me,  Sam?" 

Mrs.  Collyer,  being  human,  arose,  walked  over,  and 
took  the  pearls  from  Fanny.  Fanny  also  rose  and  kept 
looking  at  them  in  her  mother's  hand.  Sam  was  very 
glad  that  she  was  glad. 

"Perfectly  beautiful,"  observed  Mrs.  Collyer,  with 
the  cold,  discriminating  voice  of  an  expert.  Her  tone 
warmed  as  she  added,  "Just  what  I  had  promised  to 
get  Fanny  when  Roanoke  went  to  par."  The  things 
she  had  promised  herself  to  get  when  Roanoke  went  to 
par  were  all  perfectly  beautiful.  Also,  they  were  very 
numerous;  for  her  heart  beat  at  least  five  thousand 
times  an  hour.  Anticipation  kept  the  wings  of  her 
fancy  buzzing  like  an  insect's;  that  overstimulated 
gambler's  fancy  of  hers — Roanoke,  one  hundred  dollars 
a  share ! — which  alighted  on  a  million  flowers  and  sipped 
its  drop  of  honey  from  each,  fresh  joy  upon  joy,  one  to 
the  heart-throb.  Doubt's  snow-flakes  were  so  tiny  that 
her  soul-sunshine  quickly  melted  them  into  drops  of 
dew  and  made  the  flowers  even  more  beautiful.  When 
Roanoke  went  to  par!  That  was  why  her  eyes  grew 
moist  with  gratitude. 

"I'm  glad  I  got  ahead  of  Dad,"  said  Sam,  not 
thinking  of  Dad  and  the  scooping  in  of  Vir- 

76 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

ginia    Central   which   would   make    Roanoke    sell    at 
par. 

"How  can  I  thank  you,  Sam?"  Fanny's  look  was 
ten  million  thanks. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Sam,  "unless  it's  by 
keeping  mum  about  it." 

"They  must  have  cost — "  began  Mrs.  Collyer,  com 
ing  back  from  the  golden  heavens  to  her  house.  Sam 
was  almost  as  her  son. 

"I  stole  them,"  broke  in  Sam.  He  told  them  the 
story  of  the  purchase,  described  the  Persian's  appear 
ance,  genealogy,  Moslem  aspirations,  and  probable  end 
ing — everything,  save  only  the  price  of  the  pearls.  And 
he  did  not  say  he  smuggled  them  into  his  native  land. 

At  the  table  he  told  them  humorously  about  the 
outlandish  dishes  h"  had  tried.  They  laughed  a  great 
deal.  He  felt  happy.  He  was  very  healthy. 

Mrs.  Collyer  explained,  shortly  after  luncheon,  that 
she  had  to  go  over  her  real-estate  accounts,  and  she 
left  them  and  went  up-stairs.  Business  cares,  he 
opined,  with  a  sympathetic  air,  were  not  conducive  to 
longevity.  Mrs.  Collyer,  replying  from  the  stairs,  was 
certain  they  were  not,  but  who  could  help  her  carry 
her  cross?  She  looked  so  heavy-laden  that  Sam 
promptly  and  sincerely  said  it  was  too  bad,  so  that 
when  he  turned  to  Fanny,  after  poor  Mrs.  Collyer 
finished  climbing  the  stairs,  cross  and  all,  Fanny  said: 

"Take  off  that  expression,  Sam,  or  you'll  make  me 
believe  you  mean  it.  You  know  perfectly  well  she  is 
going  to  have  her  usual  nap.  If  your  absence  has 
made  you  feel  like  a  stranger,  you  might  as  well  begin 
to  be  truthful  and  friendly-like." 

Sam  laughed.  He  looked  at  her.  He  ceased  to 
laugh, 

77 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

She  was  a  very  pretty  girl ;  she  had  been  the  prettiest 
girl  at  the  Jones's  dinner.  She  had  improved  a  great 
deal,  he  thought,  in  his  absence.  He  could  not  have 
described  her  to  a  stranger  and  made  the  stranger  see 
Fanny  as  pretty  as  Fanny  was.  All  that  he  could  have 
said  was  that  her  head  was  gracefully  set  on  a  beautiful 
neck  and  shoulders;  that  her  eyes  were  brown  and 
bright  and  expressive,  without  any  stage  effects;  and 
her  hair,  golden-brown  and  very  fine,  with  a  wave  to  it; 
and  her  complexion  fair,  clear-skinned  and  delicately 
rosy ;  that  she  was  graceful  in  her  walk,  in  her  gestures, 
in  the  little  sudden  movements  of  her  head;  nothing 
statuesque  and  nothing  over -athletic,  but  absolutely 
normal  and  completely  pleasing.  In  short,  Fanny  her 
self  was  very  pretty.  Also,  she  was  barely  twenty  and 
in  good  health. 

He  had  always  been  very  fond  of  her ;  she  really  was 
the  one  friend  to  whom  he  always  could  speak  frankly 
with  the  certainty  of  a  sympathetic  hearing.  When  he 
was  ten  and  she  was  five  they  were  engaged  to  be  mar 
ried.  It  lasted  until  they  forgot  all  about  it,  possibly 
a  week.  After  all  these  years  he  remembered  it.  It 
made  him  hope  that  she  would  not  marry  very  soon. 

He  had  a  great  deal  to  say  on  the  subject  of  Sampson 
Rock,  Jr.  The  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  he 
found  he  would  have  to  say  to  this  girl  who  was  and 
yet  was  not  the  girl  he  had  always  known. 

"Fanny,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "you  have  changed  a 
great  deal." 

"For  the  worse?" 

"Inartistic!  Tut,  tut!"  he  told  her,  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand.  "You  are  better  looking  than  you  were.  I 
can't  say  more  intelligent,  because  it  isn't  fair  to  judge 
by  the  brilliancy  of  your  conversation." 

•  78 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Judging  by  the  same,  I  should  say  you  yourself 
had  not  changed  beyond  recognition."  She  leaned  for 
ward  in  an  attitude  of  listening  intently,  as  though  she 
would  not  miss  any  of  his  inspired  words. 

He  did  not  laugh.  "No,"  he  instead  admitted, 
very  humbly;  "I'm  the  same  idiot;  only  more  so. 
But  I've  been  thinking  about  it,  and  I've  come  to  the 
conclusion  it's  about  time  I  was  something  else."  He 
had  begun  in  jest  and  ended  in  earnest.  The  transition 
probably  was  too  abrupt  for  her  to  grasp.  He  himself 
did  not  like  subtleties  or  shadowings. 

"Something  sensible ?"  She  smiled  as  a  sister  might 
smile;  but  he  saw  in  her  eyes  an  unvoiced  curiosity 
that  told  him  she  had  perceived  the  line  of  demarkation 
between  his  jesting  and  his  seriousness.  It  made  his 
mood  more  confidential.  He  was  at  the  age  when  a 
man  cannot  think  of  himself  in  silence  before  a  sym 
pathetic  woman.  He  brushed  aside  all  introductory 
remarks,  seeing  no  necessity  for  formality  with  Fanny, 
and  said: 

"My  father  and  I  had  some  words  yesterday." 

"You  don't  mean — "  She  paused,  puzzled  rather 
than  alarmed. 

"No  bloodshed,"  he  said.  "Just  words.  He  has  a 
big  deal  on  and  I  didn't  like  the  way  he  proposed  to 
go  about  it.  I  told  him  so." 

"To  hear  you  talk — "  she  began,  unimpressed. 

"It  takes  too  long  to  explain,"  he  broke  in.  "All  I 
know  is  that  I  don't  like  his  business." 

"You  never  did." 

"I  never  thought  much  about  it,  one  way  or  the 
other.  But  now  I  know  I  don't  care.  He  wants  me 
to  go  into  it,  but  it's  a  hard  game — " 

"And  your  health  is  so  delicate — " 
79 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"  Don't  be  Smart  Alecky,  my  child.  I  meant  the 
game  itself.  It's  a  case  of  loaded  dice,  right  and  left." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  your  violent  dislike  of  it,"  she  said, 
with  a  coolness  which  carried  a  subtle  rebuke,  "that 
drove  you  around  the  world." 

"No,  the  reason  I  went  away  was  to  have  a  nice 
time.  Considering  your  absence,  I  did  pretty  welL 
But  now — " 

"You've  decided  to  do  something  sensible.  How 
does  Uncle  Sampson  Rock  take  it?" 

Hei  look  showed  a  deep  and  approving  interest. 
That  and  her  words  and  the  tone  of  her  voice  made 
him  feel  that  he  had  not  been  away  from  New  York, 
or  from  her,  a  day.  He  answered: 

"He  called  me  a  jackass.     It  is  his  word." 

"It  is  not  a  pleasant  word,"  she  said,  judicially. 
"You  must  have  done — " 

"It's  for  what  I  haven't  done  that  he  was  angry. 
I  don't  know  much  about  his  business,  so  I  can't  see 
much  difference  between  a  man  who  tells  lies  and  one 
who  makes  the  ticker  tell  them.  Can  you?"  In 
speaking  to  her  he  was  in  a  manner  merely  thinking 
aloud.  The  realization  of  this  is  sometimes  called 
falling  in  love. 

"There  may  be.  I  don't  imagine,  anybody  goes  to 
the  ticker  to  hear  the  truth." 

"Then  what's  the  use  of  my  going  down  there  and 
being  cooped  up  in  ail  office  all  day  long?  Pshaw,  it's 
the  lying  for  money  that  goes  against  the  grain!" 

"Sam,"  said  Fanny,  with  conviction,  "I'm  sure 
Uncle  Sampson  doesn't  tell  lies." 

"No;  he  doesn't.  He  just  lets  the  ticker  tell  them 
so  that  a  bunch  of  idiots  do  exactly  as  he  wants  them 
to.  It  helps  the  family  bank-account.  I  don't  know 
•  80 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

enough  about  the  game  to  understand  the  fine  points, 
so  you  can't  get  any  help  from  me.  Anyhow,  if  I  did 
anything,  I  think  I'd  go  into  a  mining  scheme  with  a 
friend  of  mine — awfully  nice  chap.  But  that  would 
take  me  away  from  New  York."  He  looked  at  her 
and  shook  his  head,  as  though  because  of  her  he  had 
abandoned  his  trip  to  the  West. 

She  frowned  and  said: 

"In  time  New  York  might  possibly  become  resigned 
to  its  misfortune." 

He  laughed.  "I  shouldn't  like  New  York  to  run 
that  risk." 

"That  means,  I  suppose,  a  return  to  your  strenuous 
career  of  usefulness.  Brain  workers  don't  live  long, 
and—" 

"No;  they  don't.     I'm  training  for  old  age." 

"Be  natural  and  you'll  make  it,  Sam." 

There  was  an  undercurrent  of  seriousness  in  her  voice 
that  made  him  look  at  her  carefully.  This  was  a  new 
Fanny.  The  little  girl  he  had  always  known  had  gene 
and  with  her  had  departed  the  Cupid-proof  protection 
of  immaturity.  She  was  not  even  the  same  Fanny  he 
had  been  so  glad  to  see  in  his  father's  office  the  day  of 
his  return.  The  old  Fanny  used  to  look  up  to  him  as 
a  loving  younger  sister  might.  But  this  Fanny  had  a 
mind  of  her  own,  and  could  scold  in  sarcasms  and  could 
detect  any  counterfeit  of  affectation,  so  that  even  if  he 
would  he  could  not  pose  before  her.  This  difference  in 
her  seemed  to  make  his  old  affection,  which  was  two- 
thirds  habit,  stronger,  deeper,  more  grown-up,  as  it 
were. 

"Fanny,  how  many  proposals  have  you  had  this 
season?" 

"I  knew  I'd  win!"  she  exclaimed,  her  face  clouding. 
81 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Win  what?" 

"I  made  a  bet  with  myself  that  you  could  not  stick 
to  one  subject  three  consecutive  minutes." 

He  looked  at  her  in  mock  admiration.  "You  ought 
to  write  a  book,  Fanny.  You  talk  like  one." 

"No.  But  you  do.  If  you'll  speak  slowly  I'll  jot 
it  down  word  for  word.  How  to  do  Nothing — By  an 
Expert." 

"Better  do  nothing  than  do  people,  isn't  it?"  He 
was  amused. 

"Is  that  a  subtle  epigram  or  merely  slang?" 

"No.  That's  the  difference  between  what  I'm  do 
ing  now  and  what  I'd  have  to  do  if  I  went  down  to 
Wall  Street.  Honestly,  Fanny,  it's  a  tough  game,  I 
tell  you."  He  said  it  seriously.  She  was  very  pretty. 
He  could  see  that  she  was  as  fond  of  him  as  she  had 
ever  been.  He  also  could  see  the  color  of  her  cheeks, 
the  light  in  her  eyes,  the  sudden  graceful  motions  of 
her  head.  It  made  him  almost  glad  that  she  disap 
proved  of  him.  That  was  because  she  didn't  under 
stand  him,  and  didn't  realize  that  he  was  older,  and 
that  he  had  seen  many  curious  things  and  curious 
people  in  his  trip  around  the  world. 

"It's  ridiculous  to  talk  that  way  about  your  father's 
business.  But  even  if  it  were  all  you  say  it  is,  it 
seems  to  me  that,  if  you  wished,  you  could  play  it 
like  a  gentleman."  In  her  eyes  there  was  a  hope  that 
he  would  understand  her  phrase  to  its  last  subtle 
significance.  Sam  was  too  nice  a  boy  to  be  allowed 
to  drift  along  idly,  like  so  many  others  who  had  been 
nice  boys  and  were  not  nice  men.  She  was  too  fond 
of  Sam  not  to  be  deeply  interested  in  his  future — more, 
indeed,  than  in  her  own. 

"Fanny,  it's  nonsense  to  generalize  about  such  things. 
82 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

But  I  tell  you  nobody  can  play  the  game  down  there 
without  using  loaded  dice.  Darrell  and  I  are  going  to 
buy  a  mine  and — " 

"That  simply  requires  money.  You  won't  know 
much  more  about  mines  after  you  are  done  than  you 
do  now.  If  you're  lucky  you'll  make  money.  If 
you're  not  you'll  lose  some.  But  what  will  it  do  for 
Sam  Rock?  You  have  better  opportunities — " 

"It  will  give  me  something  to  do." 

"The  fact  that  you'll  work  instead  of  playing  polo 
is  what  you  wish  to  be  congratulated  on,  isn't  it?" 

His  reply  was  a  smile.  There  was  something  amus 
ingly  motherly  about  her  talk  and  she  did  not  know 
how  much  in  earnest  he  was.  The  smile  made  her 
frown.  She  said,  a  trifle  impatiently:  "You  needn't 
be  a  philanthropist,  but  you  need  not  work  simply  to 
avoid  being  bored  by  idleness.  I  should  think  you'd 
like  to  do  something  difficult,  Sam,  something  useful, 
something — " 

"Don't  you  feel  well,  Fanny?"  He  looked  at  her 
with  mock  solicitude.  "Are  you  sure  there  is  no 
unhappy  love-affair  that  makes  you  so  —  ah  —  stimu 
lating?" 

"I  wish  I  could  stimulate  you  into  being  something 
more  than  your  father's  son."  She  spoke  so  earnestly 
that  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  answer: 

"Oh,  Dad  isn't  so  awful,  after  all." 

"No.     He  works  while  you  talk.     He  does  things — " 

"And  people.     Don't  forget  the  proletariat." 

"I  feel  like  laughing  when  you  talk  about  his  busi 
ness,"  she  retorted,  impatiently.  "I  read  a  magazine 
article  about  him  the  other  day.  It  called  him  a  re 
formed  stock  -  gambler  and  the  Von  Moltke  of  the 
Ticker  and  a  lot  of  things  that  weren't  nice.  But  it 

83 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

also  said  he  was  a  wonderful  man.  And  he  is,  too.  It 
spoke  about  his  railroads  and  what  he  had  done  to 
improve  them  and  how  he  had  developed  the  country. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  somebody  instead  of  some 
body's  son?  /  would." 

Her  words  did  not  reverberate  in  the  recesses  of  his 
soul  like  a  clarion  call  to  duty.  That  was  because  he 
was  looking  with  such  pleasure  at  the  flush  on  her 
cheeks.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  her  own  enthusi 
asm;  her  lips  were  slightly  parted.  She  was  so  pretty, 
and  looked  so  earnest  that  he  said: 

"You  would  what — like  me  to  be  somebody?" 

"Yes." 

' '  Very  well.  It's  quite  original.  You  never  read  that 
in  novels.  But  never  mind.  I'll  do  it."  From  his 
look  it  was  already  done. 

"Pshaw!"  she  said.  Her  disgust  at  what  she  deemed 
flippancy  was  so  obvious  that  it  forced  upon  him  for 
the  first  time  a  serious  mood. 

"Listen,  Fanny.  It's  very  easy  to  work  yourself 
into  a  pitch  of  excitement  about  this.  But  I  tell  you 
it's  not  so  easy  to  decide  what  to  do.  Give  me  a  chance 
to  think  about  it — and — 

"And  talk  about  it  a  year  or  two — " 

"Could  I  do  anything  better  than  to  talk  to  my 
father  about  it?" 

"No.     But  you  say  his  business  is — " 

"That's  the  way  I  think  now,  but  I  admit  it  may 
come  from  my  ignorance.  I  know  that  his  point  of 
view  and  mine  are  not  the  same.  Am  I  going  to  be  a 
success  in  a  business  that  I  don't  like?  The  Wall 
Street  end  of  it  is  not  for  me.  My  father  talks  of  the 
good  he  is  going  to  do  by  improving  a  railroad;  and 
deliberately  proceeds  to  get  stock  as  cheap  as  pos- 

64 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

sible,  no  matter  whose  it  is — "     He  paused,  frown 
ing. 

"Business  is  business,"  she  said,  vaguely  conscious 
of  apologizing  for  Sampson  Rock.  Sam  might  not 
know  all  the  reasons  for  his  father's  actions. 

Her  phrase  aroused  him  instantly. 

"That's  what  they  all  say:  business  is  business. 
Tell  the  truth  to  nobody.  Get  the  most  you  can  for 
the  least  price.  Friends  first,  then  the  enemies.  Tell 
them  it's  for  their  own  good  and  swallow  'em  whole. 
Let  everything  slide  but  the  profit.  The  profit  makes 
you  fat;  it's  good  for  the  health  three  times  a  day, 
before  and  after  meals.  Hooray  for  the  profit!" 

She  looked  at  him,  with  surprise  not  unmixed  with 
a  subtle  thrill.  She  had  not  thought  him  capable  of 
such  feeling.  He  was  a  different  Sam;  he  looked 
different;  he  spoke  another  man's  words  in  another 
man's  voice.  It  might  not  be  difficult  to  spur  him  on 
into  doing  something  worth  while.  She  was  so  pleased 
with  the  thought  of  it  that  her  lifelong  habit  of  affec 
tion  for  him  took  on  a  subtle  aspect  of  novelty. 

"Sam,"  she  said,  a  trifle  Joan-of- Arc-like,  "don't 
you  see  your  opportunity  ?  To  do  what  your  father  is 
doing  and  do  it — ah — in  a  way  that —  She  hesitated. 

"An  honest  way,  you  mean,  don't  you?  I  don't 
know  whether  I  can  or  not."  The  frown  on  his  face 
made  him  so  resemble  his  father  that  she  felt  all  Sam 
needed  to  accomplish  wonders  was  to  be  kept  in  that 
mood. 

"Oh,  if  you  only  could,  Sammy!"  she  said,  thrilled 
with  the  quick  vision  of  the  new  Sam — a  man — her 
work.  It  rang  in  her  voice. 

"Would  it  please  you  so  much,  Fanny?"  He  looked 
at  her  curiously. 

85 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"Yes,  indeed,  Sam.     Indeed  it  would." 

"  If  it  were  a  case  of  money — "  he  mused,  thinking  of 
the  work. 

"I'm  sick  of  hearing  nothing  but  money!  money! 
money!  all  the  time,  as  if  there  were  nothing  else  in  life. 
Everybody  one  meets  talks  stocks  and  how  much 
money  this  man  made  or  that  man  lost.  It's  disgust 
ing.  It  makes  New  York  unfit  to  live  in.  The  men 
study  nothing  but  how  to  make  money  and  their  wives 
how  to  spend  it.  People  grow  old  so  quickly  in  this 
country  because  of  that." 

"Shake,  Fanny!"  He  extended  his  hand.  She 
waved  it  aside  impatiently. 

"Be  serious,  Sam." 

"I  am,"     He  rose.     "I'm  going." 

"So  soon?" 

"Yes.  You  make  me  think  too  much  and  I'm  not 
used  to  it."  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  by  a  sud 
den  impulse.  There  came  to  him  a  faint  odor  as  of 
violets — a  perfume  so  delicately  evanescent  that  only 
at  times  he  thought  he  breathed  it.  But  the  touch  of 
her  soft,  warm  flesh  thrilled  him  so  that  he  bit  his  lips 
and  dropped  her  hands  a  trifle  quickly. 

She  smiled  with  her  bright  eyes  as  well  as  with  her 
lips,  and  said:  "It  is  fatiguing  at  first,  isn't  it?  It 
was  very  good  of  you  to  come  to-day — " 

"Yes,  it  was.  To  show  how  easy  goodness  comes 
to  me,  I'll  drop  in  to-morrow  night.  May  I  ?" 

"To-morrow  night?  Let  me  see."  She  thought  a 
moment,  wondering  if  she  had  a  previous  engagement, 
and  Sam  was  conscious  of  a  pang.  He  wished  to  see 
her  again,  very  soon.  "Yes.  I'll  be  at  home,  Sam. 
Do  come." 

"Look  for  me,  then,  unless  I  drop  dead  in  the  mean- 
86 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

time.  And  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  bring  Dad  with 
me." 

"Mamma  will  talk  him  black  and  blue  about 
Roanoke." 

"That's  why  I'll  bring  him.  Good-bye,  Fanny." 
He  again  held  out  his  hand  and  she  shook  it  firmly. 
The  touch  of  her  hand,  warm,  living,  thrilling,  made 
him  unwarily  voice  a  sudden  thought. 

"I  wonder  if — "     He  checked  himself  and  frowned. 

"What  do  you  wonder?" 

"If  I  tell  you  now  I  won't  have  anything  to  talk 
about  to-morrow.  It  will  keep.  Good-bye." 

He  had  wondered  if  they  never  would  be  more  than 
old  friends.  It  was  so  asinine  a  thing  to  say  to  Fanny 
that  he  looked  at  her  to  see  if  there  was  a  similar  query 
in  her  eyes.  They  looked,  indeed,  as  though  she  ex 
pected  a  question  from  him. 

"Good-bye,"  he  repeated,  hastily,  and  left  her,  with 
out  a  look  at  her  again. 

She  was  not  the  same  girl  he  had  always  loved  as  a 
sister.  She  was  no  butterfly.  She  had  brains.  If 
he  did  anything  worth  while  it  would  please  her.  He 
felt  a  great  generosity  stir  within  him ;  he  would  like  to 
give  her  everything  she  wished.  He  walked  along 
briskly,  swinging  his  cane,  his  chest  inflated,  his  lungs 
full  of  oxygen,  his  soul  overflowing  with  confidence, 
and  his  mind  not  very  deeply  concerned  with  the  details 
of  what  he  would  do. 

She  looked  after  him  from  the  window,  smiling  at  the 
swinging  of  his  cane.  He  was  a  nice  boy,  strong,  manly, 
clean-cut,  clean-looking,  not  stupidly  unsophisticated, 
but  not  unpleasantly  wise.  He  was  still  in  his  forma 
tive  period.  He  might  have  inherited  more  of  his 
father's  abilities  than  anybody  gave  him  credit  for. 

87 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

He  lacked  incentive.  He  needed  somebody  to  keep  at 
him.  He  did  not  have  the  spur  of  poverty,  but  neither 
did  he  have  the  money-madness.  There  was  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  develop  into  a  fine  type  of  man. 
She  would  love  to  see  him  become  the  glorious  exception 
in  his  set,  and  Sampson  Rock,  the  envy  of  other  rich 
men  with  sons. 

She  watched  him  until  he  turned  the  corner,  and  the 
moment  he  vanished  from  her  sight  a  smile  came  to  her 
lips.  That  was  because  she  saw  him  in  her  mind,  still 
swinging  his  cane,  walking  springily,  his  shoulders 
squared,  full  of  health  and  wholesomeness.  She 
picked  up  a  novel.  She  read  the  opening  paragraph 
three  times  before  her  smile  disappeared. 


VI 

A?TER  leaving  the  Collyers'  house,  Sam,  obeying 
a  vague  impulse,  telephoned  to  the  office  and 
learned  that  his  father  would  dine  with  some  friends  at 
the  club — an  engagement  he  could  not  break — but  he 
would  be  glad  if  Sam  called  for  him  at  half-after  ten. 
Sam  promised  cheerfully,  conscious  of  a  gradual  ob 
literation  of  their  misunderstanding  as  to  stock-market 
strategy.  He  felt  more  filial  and  withal  less  susceptible 
to  sudden  impulses.  Although  Sam  still  preferred 
mines  to  the  ticker,  he  increasingly  realized  his  igno 
rance  of  the  latter.  Methods  obviously  concerned 
Sampson  Rock  less  than  achievement.  That  was  the 
defect  of  a  strong  man ;  an  admirable  defect  in  the  eyes 
of  the  business  world,  probably.  Therefore,  it  be 
hooved  Sam  to  study  his  father's  business.  The 
necessity  of  this  became  obvious  with  the  inevitable 
thought  that  if  anything  happened  to  Sampson  Rock, 
his  only  son  should  at  least  know  how  to  protect  him 
self,  how  to  defend  his  father's  work,  and,  indeed,  it 
might  well  be,  his  father's  name.  To  whom  should  he 
turn  for  advice  if  not  to  his  father  ? 

He  was  mindful  less  of  the  ethics  of  his  father's 
business  at  that  moment  than  of  the  knowledge  of  it. 
Intelligence  and  knowledge  went  hand  in  hand.  There 
fore  he  decided  that  he  must  acquire  knowledge.  To 
do  this  he  would  ask  questions  and  he  would  listen  to 

89 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

answers.  He  would  not  argue,  he  would  not  dispute. 
It  is  not  easy  to  reason  one's  self  into  a  judicial  mood. 
Sam  tried.  As  soon  as  he  fancied  he  had  succeeded  he 
went  out  for  his  first  American  ride  in  his  new  one 
hundred  horse-power  machine.  The  long  though  un 
exciting  trip  quieted  his  nerves.  He  dined  at  the 
Racquet  Club,  won  seven  out  of  eight  games  of  pool 
from  young  Tread  well,  and  shortly  before  eleven  went 
to  the  Union  for  his  father. 

Sampson  Rock,  Major  Roberts,  and  George  Mellen 
had  spent  the  evening  discussing  the  market.  In  one 
corner  of  the  big  room  they  sat  and  talked — so  quietly 
and  unemotionally  that  not  one  of  the  men  who  saw 
them  and  knew  who  they  were  felt  any  desire  to  over 
hear  the  conversation.  That,  of  course,  was  as  it  should 
be  in  a  club  where  the  members  were  gentlemen  first 
of  all,  even  if  many  of  them  were  stock-gamblers  after 
wards.  But  any  one  who  knew  the  difference  between 
a  stock- ticker  and  a-sewing-machine  would  have  serious 
ly  strained  his  gentlemanliness  in  order  to  hear  what 
it  was  that  the  "  Big  Three  "  so  quietly  discussed.  They 
had  agreed  that  their  several  plans  would  benefit  by  a 
declining  market.  Their  decision  had  not  made  stocks 
less  valuable;  nevertheless, 'stocks  would  look  it.  Times 
were  good ;  but  times  would  probably  be  better  in  a  few 
weeks,  when  two  or  three  cloudlets  should  have  vanished 
from  the  financial  sky.  Lower  prices,  by  discouraging 
impudent  attempts  at  booming  made  by  reckless 
gamblers,  would  avert  the  nasty  little  flurries  that, 
like  influenza,  always  carried  the  germ  of  more  serious 
troubles.  Theirs  was  a  philanthropic  decision.  It 
really  would  be  for  the  Street's  ultimate  good.  Also, 
it  would  permit  the  profitable  repurchase  of  the  stocks 
which  the  three  head  philanthropists  had  sold  some 

'  90 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

days  before.  Each  of  them  therefore  promised  to  take 
care  of  his  own  stocks,  with  a  view  to  the  effect  of  such 
"care"  on  the  general  market  and  on  each  man's 
especial  benefit.  It  was  one  of  those  "conspiracies" 
which  the  Street  at  times  suspected  and  the  newspapers 
guessed  at :  only  there  were  no  details,  no  statistics 
of  profit  and  loss,  no  oath -bound  pledges.  Three 
logical  minds  thought  as  one  on  the  same  subject, 
and,  having  the  same  object  in  view,  decided  on  the 
same  course  of  action,  no  other  being  open.  That 
was  all. 

Major  Roberts  was  very  affable  to  Sam,  and  George 
Mellen,  whose  younger  brother  was  the  richest  man  in 
the  world,  shook  hands  warmly  with  the  youngster. 
Sam  inquired  after  "Willie"  Mellen,  whom  he  had 
known  intimately  at  college,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
Sampson  Rock  rose  to  go.  They  did  not  discuss 
financial  matters  in  Sam's  presence,  Major  Roberts  in 
sisting  upon  telling  the  appreciative  young  listener 
some  new  stories  he  had  heard  that  day. 

Rock  was  about  to  order  a  cab  when  Sam  asked  him 
to  walk  home,  adding: 

"It  will  do  you  good,  Dad.  I  don't  believe  you  take 
half  enough  exercise." 

It  was  a  filial  speech.  Sampson  Rock  smiled  and 
nodded. 

They  walked  up  the  avenue  leisurely.  Sam's  father 
never  disliked  silence;  it  enabled  him  to  talk  with 
Sampson  Rock.  The  Old  Man  was  frowning  slightly — 
a  trick  of  his  when  he  was  thinking.  The  frown  subtly 
checked  the  son's  impulse  to  take  his  father's  arm. 
Sam  could  not  but  feel  that  the  man  beside  whom  he 
walked  at  that  moment  was  less  his  father  than  Samp 
son  Rock,  the  animating  soul  of  the  "Rock  roads"  and 
7  91 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

arbiter  of  their  stock-market  destinies — a  man  of  brain, 
a  man  of  character,  a  man  of  power,  known  to  millions  of 
Americans  who  knew  nothing  of  the  man's  son  or  the 
man's  heart,  but  a  great  deal  about  the  man's  work. 
But  Sam  did  not  philosophize  thrillingly  about  it. 
What  he  thought,  in  his  new-born  desire  for  wisdom, 
was  that,  if  only  there  could  be  drawn  out  of  this 
captain  of  finance  all  the  secrets,  the  experience  and 
the  knowledge,  the  business  sagacity  and  the  ticker- 
strategy  that  made  him  what  the  world  said  he  was, 
many  problems  would  be  solved  at  one  swallow.  In 
stead,  Sam  must  learn  little  by  little.  There  was  no 
royal  road  to  knowledge.  How  long  would  it  take  his 
father  to  learn  ?  How  much  had  he  accomplished  and 
how  much  more  did  he  intend  to  do?  If  Sampson 
Rock  kept  his  health  and  his  strength,  what  and  where 
would  he  be  in  the  business  world  before  he  ceased  to 
work? 

Sam  looked  curiously  at  his  father's  face.  It  no 
longer  wore  a  frown,  for  Rock  had  decided  what  orders 
Dunlap  would  receive  on  the  morrow.  The  unin 
terested  look  had  come  on  again.  Thereupon  Sam 
ceased  to  think  of  his  father's  future  and  considered  his 
own. 

"Dad,"  he  said,  "I've  been  thinking." 

Rock  looked  up  and  saw  that  Sam  was  serious.  But 
he  himself  was  in  good  humor  over  the  stock-market 
outlook  now  that  he,  Mellen  and  Roberts  had  agreed. 
Roberts  and  Mellen  would  see  to  it  that  the  big  banks 
duly  helped,  all  of  which  would  greatly  assist  Rock's 
Virginia  Central  campaign.  But  after  all,  he  was  an 
American.  He  asked,  laughingly: 

"Does  it  hurt,  Sam?" 

"N-no,"  answered  Sam,  with  an  effect  of  feeling  his 
92 


"'DAD,'    HE    SAID,  'I'VE    BEEN    THINKING'" 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF    WALL   STREET 

brain  for  bruises,  being  also  an  American  and  a  patron 
of  vaudeville.  "I  haven't  been  at  it  long  enough  to  be 
fatally  injured — only  since  the  squelching  at  the  office 
the  other  day." 

"Oh,  well,  Sammy,"  began  Sampson  Rock,  with  a 
tinge  of  compunction  in  his  voice.  It  was,  indeed,  al 
most  a  motherly  tinge  and  he  was  not  smiling.  Sam 
interjected,  quickly: 

"Don't  apologize.  I  did  not  know  I  was  so  ignorant ; 
nor  that  there  were  so  many  other  idiots  in  the  world. 
Amiably  assuming  that  you  were  right,  there  is  still  a 
puzzle:  What  am  I  going  to  do?  Have  you  the 
answer?" 

"What  do  you  wish  to  do,  Sam?"  His  father's 
voice  was  kindly.  Recalling  Sam's  conversation,  he 
now  hoped  his  boy  had  forgotten  all  about  the  Colorado 
mines  and  therefore  did  not  mention  them.  He  would 
not,  indeed,  have  tried  very  hard  to  discourage  Sam, 
believing  it  would  be  easier  to  arouse  interest  in  rail 
roads  after  mines  than  in  railroads  after  automobiles. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  don't  want  to  do,  and  that  is, 
monkey  with  the  stock-market.  I'd  rather  start  at 
something — easier."  Sam  barely  caught  himself  at  the 
point  of  saying  "decent." 

' '  How  about  the  railroad  end  of  it,  Sammy  ?"  Samp 
son  Rock  in  Sam's  place  would  have  begun  his  educa 
tion  then  and  there.  The  consciousnes  of  this  made 
Sampson  Rock  look  at  his  son  with  a  curious  hopeful 
ness  in  his  eyes. 

"I'd  rather  do  that,"  answered  Sam,  with  an  absence 
of  enthusiasm  that,  more  than  his  words,  replied  to 
Rock's  hopes,  "than  be  watching  the  ticker  all  day  and 
trying  to  think  it  wasn't  a  horse-race.  But  it  seems  to 
me,"  he  finished  with  decision,  "that  I  ought  to  know 

93 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

more  about  your  business  than  I  do,  no  matter  what 
I  may  go  into  later.'  If  I  have  any  questions  to  ask, 
now  is  my  time,  when  you  can  answer  them.  No 
matter  how  disappointed  you  may  be,  Dad,  it  stands  to 
reason  that  if  I  don't  like  the  business  I'll  never  succeed 
at  it.  If  I  like  it  after  I  understand  it  better,  you  can 
do  your  worst  in  the  educational  line.  That's  fair,  isn't 
it?" 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Sam?"  In  his  earnestness  Rock 
was  frowning. 

"Yes,"  answered  Sam. 

Rock,  in  an  utterly  matter-of-fact  tone,  said:  "Very 
well.  You'll  stay  with  me  in  the  office  a  little  while  and 
learn  by  absorption  as  well  as  by  long  lectures.  It's 
slow,  but  sure."  Without  the  gift  of  patience,  even 
when  patience  was  torture,  Sampson  Rock  never  would 
have  become  Sampson  Rock.  He  took  his  big,  strong 
son's  arm  in  his  and  finished  kindly:  "There  are  many 
ways  in  which  you  can  help  me." 

Sam  thought  his  father  had  spoken  kindly  in  the 
belief  that,  being  young  and  ignorant  of  business  affairs, 
Sam  needed  encouragement.  He  said  nothing.  After 
a  moment  Rock  spoke: 

"My  boy,  I'll  find  some  work  for  you  that  won't  be  a 
bore  and — " 

"Never  mind  about  the  bore,"  interrupted  Sam,  con 
firmed  in  his  suspicions,  "the  thing  is  to  learn.  I'd 
like  to  do  something  useful,  but  also  congenial,  so 
that—" 

"I  understand,"  in  turn,  interrupted  Rock.  "I 
can't  ask  any  more  of  you.  To  me,  of  course,  my  work 
is  interesting  enough  and  I  think  it  will  be  to  you.  But 
let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  Sam:  whatever  you  go  into 
you  must  first  see  your  way  to  the  very  end,  not  only 

94 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF    WALL    STREET 

that  you  may  be  sure  to  get  there,  but  so  that  you 
may  have  no  illusions  about  being  a  human  automobile. 
You  have  the  sense  not  to  want  to  be  a  Napoleon  of 
Finance,  for  you  know  so  little  about  the  stock-market 
that  if  you  went  into  it  you'd  be  gambling.  That's 
stupid.  You  need  neither  the  money  nor  the  excite 
ment.  I'd  rather  you  went  in  for  art  or  for  collecting 
postage-stamps. ' ' 

"The  ticker  game  is  a  form  of  coin-collecting,  isn't 
it  ?"  Sam  smiled,  but  his  father  shook  his  head  a  trifle 
impatiently. 

"The  ticker  game  is  an  incident.  You  must  read 
up  on  the  theory  of  Exchanges — " 

"And  you'll  tell  me  the  practice?" 

"Yes.  The  papers  talk  about  the  stock-gambling. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  one  great  trouble  with  people 
in  this  country  is  not  that  they  wish  to  get  rich,  but 
that  they  wish  to  get  rich  quickly.  Of  all  desires  that 
is  the  worst,  though  it's  useful  enough  in  Wall  Street, 
when  others  have  it.  The  man  who  wants  something 
for  nothing,  who  wants  a  comfortable  leisure  without 
the  uncomfortable  earning  of  it,  is  bound  to  have  his 
price.  When  the  mob  that  hangs  around  a  ticker  has 
it,  it  pays  the  intelligent  capitalists'  price;  and  after 
paying,  the  mob  shouts:  'Thieves!'  The  philosophy 
of  it  is  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face,  and  you  can 
reckon  on  the  desires  of  the  mob  with  as  much  cer 
tainty  as  on  the  law  of  gravitation.  Yes,  Sam." 

"So  I  had  thought,"  said  Sam,  dryly. 

"I'm  not  defending  either  the  loser  or  the  winner. 
I'm  showing  you  the  stupidity  of  the  loser.  The  prin 
ciple  is  the  same  in  a  man  who  wants  to  do  it  all  in  a 
minute,  and  that  is  something  you  might  want  to  do. 
The  work  may  be  worth  doing  but  it  must  be  done 

95 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

well ;  and  undue  haste  may  make  it  unintelligent  work ; 
and  that  is  dishonest  work.  It's  like  those  asses  who 
put  up  cheap  tenements  that  collapse.  The  cheapness 
of  the  material  not  only  is  criminal  but  it  is  expensive, 
which  is  stupid.  You  must  give  the  mortar  time  to 
dry.  It  is  our  national  failing.  Personally,"  he  said 
this  with  a  quizzical  smile  as  if  he  thought  the  confes 
sion  would  please  the  boy,  "I  prefer  the  dashes  to  the 
slow  plodding;  for,  after  all,  a  man  only  lives  when  he 
is  doing  something,  doing  it  well  and  doing  it  quickly 
in  order  to  do  much  before  he  dies.  But  if  you  use 
your  brain  you  will  learn  that  there  is  a  time  to  walk 
and  a  time  to  sprint,  and  why  this  is  so  and  how  it 
averages  up  pretty  well  in  the  end.  Also,  that  you  are 
not  the  only  man  on  the  job,  and  that  it  is  almost  as 
bad  to  be  too  far  ahead  as  too  far  behind.  Patience  is 
the  hardest  thing  to  learn,  but  it  pays,  Sam;  it  pays 
because  so  few  people  in  this  country  like  to  exercise 
it.  By  patience,  I  don't  mean  laziness.  You  under 
stand?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam.  "You  didn't  have  to  use  words 
of  one  syllable.  I  realize  all  that." 

"No,  my  boy,  you  don't.  You  can't.  No  man 
does,  at  your  age,  with  your  temperament  and  your 
habit  of  life.  You've  never  had  to  weigh  the  conse 
quences  of  over-impulsiveness  and  you  must  learn  to 
do  it  habitually.  You  haven't  begun  to  learn;  but 
I'll  remind  you  of  it  whenever  I  see  you  forgetting  it. 
A  stupid  man  can  recognize  abstract  wisdom  at  a 
glance.  It's  like  a  shoe;  you  know  that  with  leather, 
thread,  a  few  nails  and  some  buttons  a  pair  of  shoes 
may  be  made.  To  make  the  shoes,  that  is  not  so  easy. 
To  stop  generalities:  you  start  working  for  me,  which 
means  that  you  start  working  for  yourself  because  you 

96 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

are  my  only  son.  You  therefore  begin  by  what  most 
men  hope  to  end.  Your  care  must  be  to  eliminate  the 
only  possibility  of  failure  that  there  could  be  for  you 
if  I  died  to-morrow  and  you  wished  to  take  up  my 
work  where  I  left  off.  The  only  way  you  can  do  it  is 
by  making  sure  you  know  what  you  want.  That  is 
why  you  must  take  your  time  now  and  not  later.  If 
you  know  what  you  want  and  you  work  for  it  and  for 
nothing  else,  and  you  love  the  work  while  you  are 
doing  it,  so  that  you  can't  help  doing  it  well  because  it 
would  make  you  unhappy  to  bungle,  you  will  get  what 
you're  after  as  sure  as  fate.  Making  money  is  nothing; 
it's  easy;  any  fool  can  make  money  at  times.  But 
that  only  means  so  many  pounds  of  gold,  and  it's 
permanent  work  that  counts;  something  done,  com 
pleted.  Why,  my  boy,  the  only  terror  that  Death 
really  has  is  the  thought  of  leaving  something  unfin 
ished.  It's  like  setting  your  heart  on  training  your  son 
for  something  and  dying  when  he  is  two  years  old." 
Sampson  Rock's  frown  relaxed  and  he  finished  with  a 
smile:  "That  sounds  kind  of  highfalutin'  and  long- 
winded,  eh,  Sammy?" 

"No,"  said  Sam,  shortly.  "I  can  stand  more." 
"Well,  it's  really  so.  Just  think  a  minute.  Every 
body  nowadays  wants  money,  each  man  for  what  it 
means,  what  it  can  do  for  him.  But  only  an  utter  ass 
would  deny  that  health  is  much  more  than  money. 
Yet,  while  the  average  man  has  good  health  he  forgets 
he  has  what's  better  than  money  and  he  thinks  only  of 
what  he  hasn't.  If  you  are  doing  big  work  you  know 
that  it  is  the  work  itself  that  gives  you  the  greatest 
pleasure  and  not  the  money  there  may  be  in  it;  but 
you  also  may  forget  it.  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  the 
joy  of  the  work  nor  the  money  of  it,  but  you  must 

97 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

never  measure  results  exclusively  by  dollars.  If  the 
work  you  are  doing  is  good  the  dollars  will  come  to  you 
in  such  a  way  that  you'll  have  to  lock  the  door  of  the 
safe  if  you  don't  want  them  to  walk  right  in.  Sure  as 
fate,  Sam." 

Sam  answered  nothing.  He  knew  that  the  burden 
of  Sampson  Rock's  argument  was  that  the  end  justi 
fied  the  means;  the  greatest  welfare  of  the  greatest 
number;  ethics  placed  on  a  mathematical  basis,  with 
here  and  there  a  dollar-sign.  It  was  all  a  matter  of  the 
point  of  view,  and  Sam  was  certain  his  own  was  not 
the  Wall  Street  point  of  view.  He  wanted  to  learn  how 
to  do  good  work  without  changing  his  point  of  view. 
From  the  fulness  of  knowledge  would  come  intelligent 
decision. 

They  had  reached  their  house,  the  last  silence  un 
broken. 

"I'm  going  straight  to  bed,  Sammy,"  said  Sampson 
Rock.  "I  must  be  down-town  early  to-morrow." 

"Me,  too,"  remarked  Sampson  Rock,  Jr. 

For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  Sampson  Rock  and 
his  son,  by  an  impulse  which  came  to  both  simultane 
ously,  shook  hands  as  they  said  good-night. 


VII 

SAM  turned  inevitably,  almost  eagerly,  to  the 
financial  pages  of  the  newspapers  the  first  thing 
the  next  morning.  In  the  money  articles,  the  writers 
as  usual  gave  reasons  for  the  various  market  move 
ments,  but  how  sound  those  "reasons"  were  he  could 
not  tell  and  he  did  not  care ;  they  did  not  interest  him. 
Of  Virginia  Central,  which  had  been  weak,  and  he 
knew  why,  the  papers  said  that  further  liquidation  was 
in  evidence,  doubtless  due  to  knowledge  of  circum 
stances  possessed  by  a  favored  few.  One  ventured 
the  theory  that  the  management  was  in  need  of  money 
and  was  finding  some  difficulty  in  securing  it  on  favor 
able  terms,  which  difficulty  had  been  duly  reflected 
in  the  tape.  Sam  knew  that,  in  this  instance,  the 
newspapers  were  mistaken,  excepting  the  one  that  was 
only  half  right.  It  was  a  tribute  to  the  adroitness  of 
his  father.  It  widened  the  gulf  between  those  who 
knew  and  those  who  did  not.  The  existence  of  that 
gulf  appeared  vaguely  unfair,  but,  he  was  forced  to 
admit,  inevitable. 

As  they  rode  to  the  office  together  in  an   electric 
brougham,  Sam  began  his  cross-examination. 

"Dad,"  he  said,  "the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  is 
what  you  are  after,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  does  it  run  from;  where  does  it  go  to;  how 
big  a  railroad  is  it?" 

99 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"It  begins  nowhere  and  ends  in  the  same  place." 

"I  haven't  any  stock  to  sell  you,"  laughed  Sam. 

Sampson  Rock  had  not  meant  to  be  epigrammatic. 
He  had  said  what  he  felt,  what  angered  him,  in  that 
ineptly  managed  railroad,  the  aimlessness  of  which 
irritated  him  as  being  so  much  waste,  so  great  and  so 
unutilized  a  possibility — as  the  sight  of  an  idler  vexes 
a  hard-working  man,  or  a  misused  engine  exasperates  a 
born  mechanic.  He  would  make  a  railroad  of  it.  But 
Sam's  scepticism  pleased  him  because  it  made  enlight 
enment  easy,  and  he  answered  in  the  way  he  thought 
Sam  would  understand: 

"The  Virginia  Central  Railroad  was  built  before  the 
war,  by  Southern  capitalists,  at  a  time  when  nobody 
knew  much  about  correct  railroad  building.  They  had 
little  to  learn  from  the  past  and  they  could  not  foresee 
the  wonderful  growth  of  the  country.  They  let  the 
road  wind  about  like  a  crooked  river.  No  town  of  over 
five  hundred  inhabitants  was  skipped,  because  the  peo 
ple  were  clamoring  for  a  railroad  and  the  builders 
thought  the  clamor  meant  dollars;  it  seemed  to  assure 
business  at  once.  They  got  to  Richmond.  In  time 
they  hoped  to  get  to  some  established  port.  So  they 
waited  for  the  port  to  establish  itself.  From  the  first 
they  should  have  had  two  ends — logical,  inevitable, 
natural  ends — and  they  should  have  built  an  air-line — 
as  straight  a  line  as  they  could  get — between  these  two 
points.  If  they  wanted  to  tap  sections  off  the  main 
line,  they  could  have  run  feeders  to  them.  When  the 
railroad  does  not  go  to  the  towns,  the  towns  will  come 
to  the  railroad.  A  new  line  must  look  less  to  the  pres 
ent  than  to  the  future.  You  don't  build  a  railroad  for 
a  little  while;  you  build  it  for  all  time.  These  South 
erners  were  Americans  enough  to  be  thinking  only  of 

100 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

their  own  generation.  That  generation  is  gone,  and 
because  the  road  was  built  for  it,  it  is  not  up  to-date. 
It  paid  once,  but  not  now.  Virginia  has  tobacco,  coal, 
iron,  to  send  north  and  east;  and  the  north  and  east 
have  hats,  shoes,  dry-goods,  hardware,  to  send  to 
Virginia.  The  road  that  can  carry  what  Virginia  sells 
and  what  Virginia  buys  will  prosper,  if  it  carries  enough. 
The  farmer  takes  his  produce  to  town  in  his  market- 
wagon.  If  on  the  return  home  he  can  cart  something 
to  one  of  the  neighbors  instead  of  going  back  empty, 
he  is  making  money  both  ways,  out  of  his  wagon  and 
his  team  and  other  people's  work  as  well  as  out  of  his 
own  farming.  See?  We  must  look  for  markets  and 
we  must  find  them  and  develop  them  and  keep  them 
ours.  We  must  keep  our  wagons  loaded,  coming  and 
going. 

"And  it  is  by  an  infinite  number  of  infinitesimal 
economics  that  we  can  reduce  expenses  and  meet  com 
petition.  To  haul  your  freight  after  you  get  it,  more 
quickly,  more  economically,  more  efficiently  in  short, 
that  is  the  problem.  It  cost  the  Roanoke  last  year 
six  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  reduce  grades  and 
straighten  curves  on  the  Riverside  branch  alone,  which 
was  hardly  paying.  But  that  made  it  possible  for  them 
to  run  heavy  trains  and  as  fast  trains  on  that  division 
as  on  any  other  part  of  the  system.  Instead  of  six 
freight-trains  a  day,  we  need  only  to  run  four  to  do 
more  than  the  six  did  formerly.  And  we  must  be 
ready  to  run  twelve.  We  save  a  fraction  of  a  mill  per 
ton  per  mile.  But  a  good  many  thousands  of  tons  go 
over  the  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  of  that  branch 
line  in  the  course  of  a  year,  and  as  the  country  grows 
we  shall  be  able  to  handle  all  the  business  likely  to 
come  for  many  years,  and  not  only  not  increase  rates, 

101 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

but  even  reduce  them.  We'll  make  up  the  initial  ex 
pense  in  a  little  while.  There  will  come  a  time  when 
some  of  the  increased  business  will  be  in  the  nature  of 
'velvet.'  Transportation's  what  we  have  to  sell.  Ap 
ply  the  same  principle  that  you  would  to  any  product. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly." 

"Well,  a  railroad  must  gain;  it  must  go  forward  all 
the  time.  There  is  a  normal  rate  of  increase  as  the 
country  becomes  more  thickly  populated  and  more 
intelligent  in  its  productive  work.  To  stand  still  is 
therefore  really  to  go  backward.  It  means  some  one 
else  is  getting  the  increase.  We  must  strengthen  or 
rebuild  old  bridges,  double-track,  and  use  heavier  rails 
and  more  powerful  locomotives  and  larger  cars.  The 
crew  of  a  small  train  is  the  same  as  on  a  larger  train. 
You  see  the  difference  in  the  street-cars — one  conductor 
and  one  motorman  and  one  car ;  but  the  car  now  carries 
twice  as  many  fares  as  it  used  to — a  greater  earning 
capacity  per  working  unit.  But  the  increase  in  operat 
ing  expenses  is  or  should  be — there  is  no  reason  why  it 
shouldn't  be — smaller  than  the  increase  in  the  earning 
capacity.  Have  you  got  all  that  down,  Sam?"  he 
finished,  with  a  smile. 

Sam  nodded  quickly.  He  was  very  much  interested. 
He  was  getting  elemental  facts  made  comprehensible  to 
infant  ears,  and  he  was  not  aware  that  his  father  was 
picking  his  words  with  that  end  in  view. 

"I  want  that  road  because,  notwithstanding  certain 
disadvantages,  it  has  possibilities  that  the  present  man 
agement  does  not  realize,  and,  moreover,  is  financially 
unable  to  develop  into  realities,  so  that  Virginia  is  not 
getting  what  it  ought  to  get  in  the  way  of  transporta 
tion.  The  capital  stock  is  thirty-five  million  dollars, 

102 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

and  the  bonded  indebtedness  is  not  large — not  so  large 
as  it  might  be  with  benefit  to  the  road — and  safety  to 
investors,  Sam.  Nobody  wants  to  overload  a  property 
with  bonds  nowadays ;  only  what  we  think  it  can  stand 
— and  stand  in  hard  times.  Do  you  understand  that? 
Well,  don't  forget  it,  ever.  The  worst  we  do,  and  we 
do  it  because  we  are  Americans,  is  to  capitalize  our 
hopes.  We  think  this  country  will  grow — the  railroads 
help  it  more  than  anything  else — and  ^hat  some  people 
call  water  to-day  becomes  the  dividend-paying  stock  of 
to-morrow.  The  water,  after  all,  is  only  an  intelligent 
optimist's  appraisal  of  the  value  of  the  equity  plus  the 
future.  The  money  is  made  by  the  people  who  have 
faith  in  this  country,  by  upbuilding  and  not  by  pulling 
down;  and  time  will  do  more  for  all  of  us  than  the 
ticker.  Rodney  Bruce,  of  Chicago,  said  something  at 
the  club  the  other  night  to  a  chap  who  was  very  bearish 
and  saw  hard  times  ahead:  'In  the  last  five  years  I 
myself  have  helped  to  bury  thirty-seven  men  who  bet 
against  the  United  States.'  Do  you  understand  that?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam,  impatiently.  "But  about  Virginia 
Central  stock?"  Sampson  Rock  went  on,  with  a  slight 
smile: 

"If  I  could  get  eighteen  of  the  thirty-five  millions  of 
the  Virginia  Central  stock  at  about  thirty-five  dollars 
a  share  it  would  cost  only  about  six  and  one-half 
millions  in  cash.  To  build  extensions  from  the  main 
line  of  the  Roanoke  to  the  sections  I  want  to  develop 
would  cost  all  of  that  and  more.  But  it  also  would 
mean  two  roads  going  there;  whereas  by  getting  the 
Virginia  Central  and  improving  it  out  of  its  own  earn 
ings,  there  would  be  but  one,  and  one  that  would  throw 
the  traffic  our  way  just  the  same.  The  improvement 
of  the  Virginia  Central  will  make  it  a  valuable  property. 

103 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

The  Roanoke,  therefore,  would  profit  not  only  by  the 
increased  traffic  it  would  get  from  the  Central,  but  by 
its  investment  in  Central  stock  itself,  of  which  it  would 
hold  the  majority.  The  Roanoke  could  afford  to  pay 
fifteen  millions  for  the  majority  of  the  Central  stock  and 
issue  four  per  cent,  bonds  for  it,  which  would  mean 
six  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year,  because  some  day 
the  Central's  stock  will  be  paying  four  per  cent.,  or 
even  five  per  cont.,  dividends  on  its  par  value,  or 
much  more  than  the  interest  on  the  bonds,  and  in  ad 
dition  the  Biddleboro  extension  alone  ought  to  be  good 
for  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year  net  in  in 
creased  business  to  the  Roanoke  proper." 

"But  if  you  buy  stock  for  six  and  one-half  millions 
and  sell  it  to  the  Roanoke  for  fifteen — "  began  Sam. 
The  work  itself  was  good,  praiseworthy,  inspiring;  the 
financing  of  it  was  not. 

"I  won't  get  fifteen  for  it  and  I  won't  buy  it  for  six 
and  one-half.  No  such  luck.  Ill  probably  have  to 
pay  forty  or  fifty  dollars  a  share,  and  possibly  more, 
and  I'll  have  to  take  the  Roanoke 's  collateral  bonds  in 
payment,  and  I'll  have  to  sell  them  at  a  discount,  which 
won't  net  me  the  fifteen  millions.  And  besides,  I'll 
only  be  one  of  a  syndicate.  I  can't  make  millions  quite 
as  fast  as  that.  But  I'll  have  to  get  the  price  of  Vir 
ginia  Central  stock  down,  Sam,  not  so  much  to  get  it 
cheap,  but  to  get  it  at  all.  I  must  make  it  very  active 
and  very  weak,  because  that  will  bring  stock  from  all 
over  the  country.  Holders  of  it  will  read  what  the 
newspapers  say  of  it  and  they  won't  like  the  looks  of 
things.  They  don't  have  to  sell  if  they  don't  wish; 
I  can't  force  them  to  sell,  and  I  won't  advise  them  to 
sell.  But  I  can't  tell  them  to  buy  now,  can  I  ?  Wall 
Street  says  the  tape  never  lies,  and  what  the  smart 

104 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

Alecks  of  Wall  Street  say  the  public  who  listens  will 
repeat,  being  sheep.  If  anybody  has  Virginia  Central 
stock  for  investment  and  believes  in  the  growth  of  his 
country,  he  will  hold  on.  But  it  is  neither  these  men 
nor  the  speculators  who  make  the  railroads  prosperous. 
So  the  tape  will  say  things  which  stupid  people  will 
imagine  mean  something  that  the  tape  doesn't  mean 
at  all.  And  those — the  speculators — will  sell  their 
Virginia  Central,  Sam." 

"To  Sampson  Rock?"  His  father  certainly  would 
be  doing  good  to  Virginia — over  the  emptied  pocket- 
books  of  the  ticker-listeners. 

"To  somebody  or  other  who  doesn't  put  too  much 
reliance  on  what  the  ticker  or  anybody  says,  but  has 
brains  to  do  his  own  thinking  with." 

"Then,  if  you  put  the  stock  down  to  ten  dollars  a 
share — "  began  Sam. 

"I  can't."  He  paused.  Sam  thought  there  was  a 
limit  to  the  ruthlessness  of  business.  Sampson  Rock 
went  on :  "The  stock  has  value.  I'm  not  the  only  one 
who  knows  it.  You  might  not  want  to  pay  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  a  house,  even  though  it  was  really  worth  it; 
but  you'd  jump  at  it  at  five  thousand  dollars,  even  if  you 
had  to  wait  months  or  years  for  a  ten  thousand  dollar 
buyer.  The  stock  is  really  worth  more  to  the  Roanoke 
than  to  any  individual,  because  of  the  traffic  arrange 
ments  which  would  be  of  mutual  benefit.  But  at  a 
certain  price  it  is  worth  while  to  many  individuals  to 
buy  it." 

"Why  don't  you  make  a  fair  offer  to  Colonel  Robin 
son  ?"  Sam  suggested  this  tentatively.  He  had  strength 
ened  his  suspicion  that  what  seemed  fair  would  not  be 
practicable. 

"He  would  know  what  we  can  afford  to  pay.  Wait; 
105 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

that  isn't  all." — For  Sam  had  opened  his  mouth  and  his 
father  had  divined  a  conventional  remonstrance,  as  it 
were.  "He  would  add  twenty-five  per  cent,  to  what 
really  would  be  a  fair  price,  in  order  to  make  sure  he 
wasn't  giving  it  away.  I  hate  a  man  who  is  so  ready  to 
take  advantage  of  the  needs  of  others."  He  smiled. 

"Yes,"  acquiesced  Sam,  unsmilingly.  "But  do  you 
count  on  getting  all  the  Virginia  Central  stock  you  want 
in  the  open  market?" 

"I  can't  tell  yet,  Sam.  I  hope  so.  I  have  a  list  of 
the  stockholders,  and  I'm  trying  to  find  out  where  the 
stock  is  held.  The  stock  paid  dividends  years  ago,  but 
the  road  has  allowed  competitors  to  grow  while  it  has 
itself  stood  still,  and  during  the  last  period  of  depression 
it  narrowly  escaped  bankruptcy.  It  has  not  paid  any 
dividends  since.  The  stock  is  up  where  it  is  because 
other  stocks  have  boomed  rather  than  because  its  own 
future  is  as  bright  as  that  of  the  rest.  But  it  has  many 
stockholders.  Robinson  owns  a  large  block  and  Rob 
inson's  friends  are  also  heavily  interested.  Robinson's 
stock  probably  won't  come  on  the  market  unless  some 
body  guns  for  it,  but  I  think  I  can  do  without  it.  Some 
of  the  others  would  sell  if  it  went  up  a  great  deal,  which 
it  won't — or  if  it  went  low  enough  to  frighten  them. 
Some  is  held  in  England,  and  then  there  is  the  floating 
supply  held  by  more  or  less  speculative  holders.  That 
I  know  I'll  get — that  and  what's  knocking  around  the 
Street.  If  I  get  the  bulk  cheap  I'll  be  generous  enough 
with  the  balance." 

"I  should  think  Robinson — "  began  Sam,  with  a  sort 
of  wondering  impatience. 

"He  would,  if  he  had  the  brains  and  the  money, 
Sam,"  interjected  Sampson  Rock;  "but  he  thinks  the 
New  York  bankers  are  extortionate  in  their  terms, 

106 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are  only  intelligently 
prudent.  They  know  where  the  fault  lies;  it  isn't  with 
the  road,  but  with  the  management.  He  will  be  one  of 
Wall  Street's  self -elected  victims.  The  woods  are  full 
of  them,  and  you  read  about  them  in  the  newspapers. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  the  human  factor  in  the  equa 
tion;  it  is  always  that,  Sam.  Robinson  hopes  the  Eng 
lishmen  will  help  him  out,  but  before  he  can  find  out 
positively  I  hope  to  get  what  I  want.  You'd  be  sur 
prised  to  know,"  he  finished,  reflectively,  "how  much 
stock  comes  from  strong-boxes  all  over  the  country 
when  the  price  breaks  and  stays  broke."  He  was  look 
ing  thoughtfully  at  the  door-handle  of  the  brougham. 
Perhaps  he  saw  how  much  Virginia  Central  stock  was 
coming  from  strong-boxes  all  over  the  country  —  a 
growing  mound  of  engraved  certificates,  growing,  grow 
ing,  bringing  with  them  the  power  to  give  to  Virginia 
prosperity — life  and  the  chance  to  work  and  sweat! 

"It  isn't  a  square  deal,  Dad,"  said  Sam,  without  heat, 
in  order  to  avoid  offence.  "They  don't  know  that  the 
price  is  going  down  because  you  are — " 

"Sam,"  retorted  Sampson  Rock,  impatiently,  "that 
stock  pays  no  dividends.  It  won't  pay  any  as  long  as 
Robinson  runs  the  road,  and  he'll  never  resign  the 
management  while  he  and  his  friends  are  in  control. 
I  don't  want  to  wreck  the  road  in  order  to  get  it  for 
practically  nothing.  I'm  after  the  control  of  it  because 
I  tell  you,  my  boy,  that  the  possible  welfare  of  an  in 
dividual  must  not  be  allowed  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  actual  welfare  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people. 
And  I'm  getting  it  in  and  through  the  stock-market 
because  that  is  the  easiest,  cheapest,  and  best  way — 
and  perhaps  the  only  way." 

He  believed  his  own  words;  nevertheless,  when  he 
s  107 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

continued  it  was  in  a  defensive  tone:  "You  won't 
know  Virginia  five  years  after  the  Roanoke  gets  the 
Central.  Its  own  mother  wouldn't  know  it  in  ten. 
And  we  won't  stop  there.  The  Roanoke  must  go  west 
ward.  Let  me  get  this  road" — Sampson  Rock's  eyes 
shone  and  he  clinched  his  right  hand  as  though  the 
Virginia  Central  were  a  struggling  eel — * '  let  me  get  this 
miserable  little  road  and  I —  He  drew  in  a  deep 
breath,  and  came  back  to  an  electric  brougham  in  New 
York  after  having  been  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Michigan, 
the  inevitable  terminus  of  the  great  Roanoke  system  of 
the  future. 

Sam,  who  was  watching  him,  asked:  "And  you  what, 
father?" 

"That  must  be  your  work,  Sam,"  answered  Rock,  very 
quietly — "that  is,  if  you  care  for  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Yes,"  answered  Sam,  quickly,  "I  care.  But  have 
I  the  brains  to  think — " 

"Have  you  the  will  to  work?  That's  more  to  the 
point.  There  is  no  mystery  about  these  things.  They 
are  perfectly  obvious."  The  quality  which  makes  some 
men  leaders  of  men  does  not  always  go  with  the  power 
to  understand  why  the  minds  of  the  subchiefs  do  not 
always  work  quickly  enough. 

"Obvious  to  you,"  said  Sam.  Whatever  sophistries 
there  might  be  in  Rock's  speech,  Sam  could  not  put  his 
finger  on  them.  And  the  work  was  interesting !  He  could 
vision  to  himself  pleasant,  inspiring  things  in  the  future. 

"And  to  you,  after  you  have  studied  them  and  men 
a  few  years.  What  votes  are  to  a  political  statesman 
dollars  are  to  a  business  man.  But  there  are  other 
things  in  life  than  votes  or  dollars.  You  must  know 
your  own  country  first.  You  don't  know  it  yet. 
Therefore  you  can't  know  your  own  countrymen." 

.  108 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"But  I  will.  And  I  want  to  know  Virginia  and  see 
for  myself  where  and  why  it  is  going  to  change  so  much 
after  the  Roanoke  gets  the  control."  Sam  felt  certain 
he  would  see  with  his  own  eyes  and  understand. 

" That's  very  easy.  Industrial  development  is  now 
held  back  by  the  lack  of  adequate  transportation 
facilities.  Take  the  Austin  iron  deposits.  It's  fine 
ore  and  makes  a  particularly  fluid  iron  which  is  very 
desirable  for  mixing  with  the  cheaper  Alabama  grades 
in  making  certain  castings  and  for  other  purposes. 
But  the  railroad  handicaps  them.  Nature  gave  these 
iron  deposits  to  Virginia,  and  Virginia  cannot  take  ad 
vantage  of  them  because  the  Virginia  Central  doesn't 
develop  them.  But  /  will  develop  the  Austin  and  the 
Randolph  County  coal-fields,  and  instead  of  two  blast 
furnaces  there  will  be  ten  at  Austin,  and  instead  of 
shipping  seventy-five  thousand  tons  of  excellent  coal 
to  near-by  towns  at  rather  high  prices  we'll  be  carry 
ing  a  million  tons,  not  only  to  Virginia  people  but  to 
New  England.  It  will  be  good  and  cheap  fuel.  And 
there  are  many  other  things.  And  I  shall  profit  be 
cause  the  Roanoke  will  get  more  tonnage,  since  the 
Central's  natural  outlet  will  be  by  way  of  the  Biddle- 
boro  extension  and  then  through  us  to  tide  -  water. 
That  is  all,  without  any  verbal  fireworks  on  the  subject 
of  the  nobility  of  labor." 

Sampson  Rock  turned  to  his  morning  papers — big 
and  little,  yellow  and  staid,  he  had  them  all — and  read 
them  one  after  another;  first  the  stock-market  articles, 
then  the  head-lines  of  the  other  pages,  his  glance  jump 
ing  jerkily  from  one  column  to  another,  then  quickly 
down  the  page.  Then — a  minute  or  two  to  each  paper 
— he  put  them  aside. 

Sam  was  lost  in  thought.  It  occurred  to  him  he 
109 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

ought  to  buy  coal  and  iron  lands  and  develop  them, 
and  that  now  was  the  time.  He  suggested  it  to  his 
father. 

"Yes;  you'd  make  money,  Sammy;  but  it  would  tie 
up  a  lot,  and  I  can  do  better,  dollar  for  dollar,  just  now, 
down  here.  Of  course  we'll  come  in  on  the  coal  and 
iron,  too,  for  I'll  help  to  promote  a  big  development 
company,  and  we'll  have  enough  stock  to  be  in  on 
the  prosperity  at  a  relatively  small  cost,  Sam."  He 
smiled  slightly  at  the  thought  of  the  smallness  of  the 
cost.  Nothing  could  be  smaller  than  nothing,  and 
that  was  what  this  stock  would  cost.  "You  see,  the 
Roanoke  is  anxious  to  help  enterprises  that  will  de 
velop  the  country's  resources  and  traffic.  I'll  send 
people  out  to  work  on  that  as  soon  as  I  see  things 
coming  my  way." 

"Have  you  all  the  Roanoke  stock  you  want?"  asked 
Sam,  presently. 

"Yes;  why,  Sam?" 

"Will  the  purchase  of  the  Central  make  Roanoke 
go  up?" 

"Yes — with  some  help.  The  acquisition  of  the  con 
trolling  interest  of  the  Central  will  be  a  great  bull 
card.  But  the  public  will  have  to  know  the  reason  why, 
and  then  the  tape  will  have  to  corroborate  it.  The 
tape,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "will  duly  corroborate. 
It  is  a  wonderful  educational  force,  at  times." 

"Are  you  sure  the  Roanoke  will  buy  the  Central  from 
you  if  you  get  it  ?"  Sam  had  the  railroad  in  his  mind's 
grasp.  The  philosophy  of  the  ticker  did  not  interest 
him  very  much  now. 

"Oh  yes." 

"At  what  price?" 

"It  depends.  I  think  the  Roanoke  would  pay  sev- 
110 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

enty-five  dollars  a  share  for  fifty-one  per  cent,  will 
ingly  enough.  Some  of  it  should  not  cost  me  more 
than  thirty-five,  but  some  may  cost  me  eighty  or  eighty- 
five.  The  market-price  will  probably  be  about  eighty- 
five  when  the  deal  is  made,  because  there  will  be  a  very 
small  supply  by  that  time.  Also  by  having  it  sell  way 
up  on  the  Exchange  it  will  make  the  price  the  Roanoke 
pays  seem  cheap  and  silence  adverse  criticism.  We 
must  defer  to  public  opinion.  My  average  must  be  a 
good  deal  below  seventy-five." 

"Roanoke  is  no  higher  now  than  Central  will  be 
then.  Isn't  it  worth  more  ?" 

"Yes,  much  more.  It's  a  better  and  stronger  road. 
Only  it  has  more  stock."  He  smiled.  The  newspapers, 
three  years  before,  when  Rock  reorganized  it,  had 
dubbed  the  Roanoke  the  "  Hydrant  -  headed  Mon 
ster" —  a  felicitous  allusion  to  its  watered  capital. 
But  the  boom  in  business  had  changed  the  water  into 
real  value,  to  Rock's  enormous  profit,  for  Rock  had 
seen  the  boom  coming  when  the  majority  were  building 
cyclone  -  cellars.  He  went  on:  "Roanoke  is  paying 
four  per  cent,  dividends  now,  and  it  will  be  some  years 
before  the  Central  does  that.  If  things  turn  out  as  I 
hope,  Roanoke  ought  easily  to  pay  five  per  cent,  and 
sell  at  par  before  the  end  of  the  year.  The  Roanoke 's 
future,  if  it  gets  the  Virginia  Central,  will  be  bright." 

Some  people  would  have  given  up  their  chances  of 
eternal  salvation  for  such  an  assurance  from  Sampson 
Rock;  but  Sam  could  not  help  recalling  Mrs.  Collyer's 
habit  of  savoring  that  phrase — Roanoke  at  par — and 
he  said: 

"Aunt  Marie  would  drop  dead  if  she  thought  she'd 
have  to  wait  that  long.  She  ought  to  buy  Virginia 
Central  instead." 

in 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"Sam" — Sampson  Rock  spoke  sharply — "what  I've 
told  you  is  for  your  own  information.  An  indiscreet 
word  might  spoil  everything."  The  look  on  his  face 
was  not  pleasant  to  see. 

"I  understand,"  said  Sam.  It  was  the  dollar- 
hunter's  look,  the  look  a  man  should  not  have  who  is 
thinking  of  the  work  and  not  of  the  money.  After  a 
pause  he  asked: 

"All  you  need  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand 
shares  of  Virginia  Central,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  just  a  bare  majority  of  the  capital  stock." 

"Why  don't  you  take  it  all?" 

"Don't  need  it;  a  bare  majority  gives  control." 

"How  much  of  it  have  you  now?" 

"Not  very  much." 

"How  much,  Dad?"  he  persisted.  "I  want  to  know 
the  reason  for  everything  you  do." 

"About  thirty  thousand."  Sampson  Rock  reflected 
that  it  might  really  help  Sam  to  be  on  the  absolute 
"inside"  of  this  deal.  Sam  was  his  only  son. 

"You'll  have  to  work  hard  to  get  the  other  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  What  do  you  expect  the 
whole  will  average  when  you  get  it?" 

"I  can't  tell." 

"Fifty?" 

"I  hope  less." 

"Forty?" 

"Probably  more.  It  all  depends  on  how  much  stock 
I  can  shake  out  in  the  next  fortnight.  At  sixty  or 
under  I'll  make  enough  money.  It  doesn't  matter," 
he  added,  "whether  it's  lightning-rods  or  rubbers  or 
railroads,  Sam;  the  first  rule  of  business  is  to  buy  as 
cheap  as  you  can  and  sell  as  dear  as  you  can.  It  will 
cost  a  lot  of  money  to  do  such  work  as  I'm  doing  now 

112 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

in  the  stock-market,  and  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  as 
much  stock  as  I  want,  in  which  event  I  might  have  to 
come  to  terms  with  Robinson  and  lose  a  million  of 
profits  to  avoid  losing  two  or  three  of  my  own.  But 
I  don't  think  I'll  need  his  help  or  his  stock.  Still,  don't 
run  away  with  the  idea  that  there  is  no  risk.  There 
always  is  risk;  but  the  odds  are  in  my  favor." 

Sam  understood  fully  that  anybody  who  bought  Vir 
ginia  Central  now  and  held  it  until  Sampson  Rock 
finished  his  purchases  on  a  wholesale  scale  would  make 
a  great  deal  of  money — money  that  would  not  actually 
come  out  of  Sampson  Rock's  pocket,  though  it  would 
reduce  his  profits.  The  Roanoke  would  pay  for  it  in  the 
end.  And  in  the  end  everybody — workers  and  drones 
— would  make  money  by  the  increased  prosperity. 
The  stock  was  selling  under  forty  in  the  open  market 
now,  and  Rock  would  make  money  even  if  he  paid 
fifty-five  or  sixty  for  it.  To  secure  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  thousand  shares  in  the  open  market  was 
difficult.  Even  his  father  wasn't  sure  he  could  do  it, 
after  all  his  preliminary  manipulation  and  market- 
rigging  and  the  skilful  campaign  of  depression. 

His  father  thought  Robinson's  stock  could  not  be 
bought  cheaply.  Robinson  would  be  on  his  guard 
against  Sampson  Rock,  who  was  chairman  of  the  board 
of  directors  of  the  Roanoke. 

But  would  he  be  on  his  guard  against  some  agent 
of  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  who  was  nothing?  Sam  would 
pay  Robinson  a  fair  price;  that  would  be  playing  the 
game  fairly.  The  profit  would  be  reduced  but  the  work 
would  be  done.  The  work  was  the  thing,  not  the 
money. 

On  Sam's  face  there  was  a  frown,  because  he  realized 
that  he  did  not  yet  know  the  game  well  enough  to  play 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

it  intelligently,  and  the  consciousness  of  it  closed  the 
door  on  confidence.  It  was  like  playing  football  with 
the  eyes  bandaged.  The  need  of  knowledge  meant  the 
need  of  patience,  and  the  need  of  patience  made  him 
impatient.  The  impatience  made  him  frown.  And 
yet  he  had  learned  two  things  worth  millions — that  he 
must  be  patient,  and  that  it  was  interesting  work. 


VIII 

HPHEY  walked  into  the  office  together,  abreast,  as 
1  though  they  were  partners.  The  Old  Man — Rock 
became  the  "Old  Man"  the  moment  he  was  in  the 
ticker  district — found  a  dozen  cablegrams  from  his 
London  brokers.  They  were  in  code,  but  Valentine 
had  deciphered  them,  writing  the  plain  English  in  lead- 
pencil  over  each  code  word,  and  Rock  read  them  aloud 
in  chronological  sequence,  for  Sam's  benefit.  For  the 
most  part  they  were  merely  reports  of  sales  for  Mr. 
Rock's  account,  but  two  contained  requests  for  informa 
tion — which  even  Sam  understood  were  thinly  disguised 
prayers  for  advice,  that  eager  hearts  across  the  sea 
might  make  money.  Everywhere  it  was  the  same: 
people  wished  to  make  money.  To  Sampson  Rock  his 
work  might  mean  more ;  to  his  acquaintances  it  seemed 
to  mean  the  chance  to  get  rich.  The  money  end  of  the 
deal  was  the  unpleasant  part,  but  Sam  dispassionately 
admitted  the  silliness  of  expecting  the  average  man 
to  think  of  the  work  without  the  money;  everybody 
wasn't  rich.  He  asked: 

"Do  you  sell  there  for  effect  on  this  market?" 
"Yes;   and  for  effect  on  theirs,  too,"  replied  Rock. 
He  rang  the  bell  for  Valentine. 

In  determining  to  learn,  though  he  had  not  yet 
acquired  the  ability  to  analyze,  Sam  was  developing 
an  increasing  susceptibility  to  impressions.  Things 

"5 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OFWALL  STREET 

whereof  he  had  long  known  the  bones  now  took  on 
flesh  and  lived ;  so  that  he  mistook  them  for  discoveries. 
In  this  campaign — in  which  Sam's  future  way  of 
living  was  involved — the  first  battle  was  waging  in 
New  York,  with  dollars  for  soldiers  and  the  ticker  for 
artillery.  People  he  did  not  know,  but  for  whom  he 
still  felt  an  impersonal  sympathy,  owned  bits  of  paper 
called  stock-certificates,  and  the  game  was  to  induce 
them  to  exchange  these  certificates  for  a  certain  num 
ber  of  dollars.  The  ways  of  inducing  them  to  do  so 
were  not  the  ways  of  a  railroad  expert  with  his  gaze  on 
the  future  and  his  heart  on  the  prosperity  of  a  state, 
but  the  ways  of  a  military  strategist  who  left  nothing 
to  chance,  but  at  the  same  time  was  insensible  to  the 
suffering  of  individuals.  He  would  get  that  stock,  as 
much  of  it  and  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and  he  would  use 
financial  fear  as  a  goad.  Some  people  would  lose  some 
dollars;  Rock  would  gain  some.  But  Virginia  would 
gain  the  most,  he  had  said.  Even  in  London  would 
the  dollar-strategist  fight  skirmishes,  and  it  was  civiliza 
tion,  work,  progress,  that  same  progress  that  his  father 
had  in  mind  when  he  spoke  of  "progress,"  which  now 
permitted  so  extended  a  battle-line  because  progressive 
men  had  invented  banks  and  exchanges  and  telegraphs 
and  submarine  cables.  A  strong  hand  it  must  be  and 
a  quick  and  versatile  brain  that  could  grasp  the  situa 
tion.  And,  for  all  that  it  seemed  hard,  Sam  again 
found  something  inspiring  in  the  vital  importance  and 
magnitude  of  the  game.  It  was  small  wonder  that 
otherwise  kindly  men  could  convince  themselves  that 
the  heart  had  no  place  in  the  struggle.  Tears  easily 
became  insignificant,  almost  as  meaningless  as  a  lament 
against  one  of  the  natural  forces.  The  law  of  gravitation 
had  no  conscience ;  the  tempest  was  ignorant  of  ethics. 

116 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"  I  send  them  selling  orders  just  as  I  do  in  New  York. 
The  price  there  comes  lower  unless  they  suspect  ulterior 
motives.  They  are  not  asses,  over  there."  It  did  not 
occur  to  Rock  to  add  that  New  York,  getting  lower 
prices  from  London,  would  be  sure  to  think  that  the 
report  to  the  bondholders'  committee  was  not  favorable 
and  that  London  speculators  had  advance  news  of  it. 
It  was  self-evident.  Valentine  came  in  just  then,  and 
Rock  told  him: 

"Cable  Ismay  and  Israel  that  we  look  for  lower  prices 
for  Virginia  Central.  Attitude  of  best  bankers  here 
towards  present  management  not  friendly." 

Valentine,  Sam  noted,  went  out  frowning,  and  Sam 
asked: 

"Is  that  right?" — he  corrected  himself  lest  he  be 
misunderstood — "I  mean,  are  the  bankers  really  un 
friendly?"  The  sense  of  inspiration  was  buried  be 
neath  the  sordid  details  of  the  great  upbuilding  plans. 
Even  Valentine  had  showed  by  the  look  on  his  face 
that  he  did  not  relish  his  part  in  this  work.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  Valentine  had  frowned  because  he  was 
trying  to  remember  the  exact  words  of  the  message 
he  was  to  send.  Ethics  and  accuracy  in  figures  are 
not  twin  drops  of  rain. 

"Yes.  I  explained  it  to  you."  Sampson  Rock 
turned  to  his  mail.  Some  of  the  unfriendly  bankers 
would  be  in  the  syndicate  later,  but  Rock  did  not 
think  of  mentioning  this. 

Sam  perceived  that  his  father  was  again  at  his  favor 
ite  practice  of  telling  the  truth  because  of  his  convic 
tion  that  it  would  be  misinterpreted.  Was  it  ever 
right  to  tell  less  than  the  whole  truth  ?  It  was  impos 
sible  to  exclude  doubts  as  to  the  righteousness  of  it  all; 
but  certainty  of  its  utter  unrighteousness  was  quite  as 

117 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

elusive.  Sam's  was  not  a  metaphysical  mind.  Every 
time  the  ticker  intruded,  the  light  flickered,  and  the 
flickering  made  the  philosophizing  hazy.  But  at  least 
there  was  no  doubt  that  more  knowledge  was  needed. 
He  asked: 

"What  about  your  orders  in  this  market?" 
"Given  last  night."  Sampson  Rock  did  not  look  up 
as  he  talked.  "Valentine  will  distribute  them  this 
morning.  I  wish  to  see  what  effect  on  the  commission- 
houses  last  night's  weak  closing  will  have.  We  have 
enough  stock  for  sale  at  forty  to  guard  against  too 
strong  a  rally.  Then,  at  about  half -past  ten,  if  it  looks 
as  if  pressure  is  needed,  we'll  let  them  have  enough  to 
do  the  trick." 

These  were  elemental  facts — things  which  Sam,  being 
his  father's  son,  should  have  known  these  many  years. 
The  details,  the  knowledge  of  the  personal  characteris 
tics  of  the  brokers  employed,  the  "revelations"  of  the 
tape,  the  psychology  of  professional  Wall  Street  and  of 
the  stock-gambling  public,  the  ability  to  eliminate  the 
inessential  which  made  it  easy  to  perceive  when  it  was 
time  to  strike  and  when  to  hold  off — they  were -as  the 
eyes  and  nose  and  mouth  of  the  game,  that  gave  it  a 
recognizable  physiognomy.  Sam  saw  these  but  dimly 
now;  yet  he  realized — though  he  vaguely  resisted  too 
prompt  an  admission  of  it — that  this  game  of  the 
ticker,  viewed  from  the  "inside,"  might  indeed  be 
more  than  an  unfair  raid  on  a  heap  of  dollars  in  the 
distance,  more  than  a  struggle  for  a  potentially  profit 
able  railroad.  The  little  machine  printed  on  the 
tape  letters  and  figures  in  black  ink.  It  printed  on 
human  souls  fears  and  hopes ;  and  printed  them 
with  an  ink  made  of  brains  and  blood  and  tears  and 
gold. 

118 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Valentine  re-entered  to  say  Mr.  Harding  was  waiting 
to  see  Mr.  Rock. 

"Tell  him  to  come  in,"  said  Mr.  Rock. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Rock,"  growled  Harding,  of 
F.  W.  Harding  &  Co.  He  was  not  known  to  be  one  of 
Mr.  Rock's  brokers.  The  firm  did  a  large  commission 
business,  most  of  it  for  out  of  town,  and  they  had  a 
branch  office  in  Richmond,  Virginia.  Frank  Harding 
was  the  most  unpopular  man  on  the  Stock-Exchange, 
and  he  was  aware  of  it.  This  made  him  even  more 
unpopular,  because  he  revenged  himself  in  the  only 
way  possible  —  by  exacting  the  last  drop  of  blood 
wherever  there  was  blood  to  be  exacted.  And,  as  he 
expected  reprisals,  he  was  always  on  his  guard.  He 
was  not  a  gentleman,  and  was  so  unwise  as  to  show  it 
in  little  things;  also  in  big  things.  But  he  was  an  ex 
perienced  and  alert  broker  and  he  could  be  trusted. 
Rock  would  use  him  now  because  Harding's  Southern 
connections  would  enable  him  to  convey  certain  im 
pressions  to  the  observant  Street;  and  also,  later  in 
the  campaign,  because,  having  no  friends  in  the  world, 
Harding  had  the  blessed  gift  of  silence.  With  silence, 
indiscretion  comes  hard. 

"Good-morning,  Harding,"  said  Rock.  "How  are 
you  feeling?" 

"All  right,"  answered  Harding,  curtly.  He  almost 
sneered,  from  force  of  habit,  when  he  suddenly  remem 
bered  that  more  was  expected  of  him  in  this  office, 
where  there  were  no  reasons  for  hostility.  He  added: 
"How  are  you?" 

"Not  well,  not  well,"  answered  Rock,  half  crossly. 
Sam  stared  at  his  father  in  amazement.  Then  he 
stared  with  displeasure  to  see  why  the  Old  Man  was 
not  well  in  that  tone  of  voice. 

119 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Harding  grudgingly  reassured  him:  "You  look  all 
right." 

"Ah!"  said  Rock,  with  a  shrug  of  mingled  reckless 
ness  and  resignation.  Then  he  went  on:  "I  want  you 
to  sell  some  Virginia  Central  for  me.  But  you  must 
use  discretion." 

Harding  nodded. 

"Ten  thousand  shares,"  went  on  Rock.  Sam  was 
not  sure  he  guessed  why  his  father  looked  almost 
guiltily  uneasy.  He  did  not  know  that  Rock  knew 
what  Harding  would  be  sure  to  think. 

It  was  a  good  order.  Harding  merely  nodded  again, 
and  asked: 

"What  price?" 

"Wait  and  see  if  it  rallies.  It  closed  at  thirty-eight 
and  a  quarter  to  three-eighths  last  night.  It  ought  to 
rally  a  point  or  a  point  and  a  half." 

"Don't  think  so  myself;  but  you  ought  to  know." 

"I  don't.  Sell  it  at  thirty-nine  and  a  half  or  better. 
If  the  market  has  not  rallied  that  much  by  half  after 
ten,  sell  the  lot  as  well  as  you  can."  Rock  hesitated. 
After  a  pause  he  continued  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
is  taking  chances  but  trusts  his  friend:  "You'll  have 
to  borrow  it.  There's  no  harm  in  telling  you,  Harding, 
that  it's  a  short  sale." 

Harding  had  suspected  that  it  was  short  stock  when 
Rock  first  spoken  But  of  course  now  he  was  certain 
it  was  not.  He  remembered  that  Dunlap  had  been 
quietly  picking  it  up  for  some  days,  presumably  for 
Sampson  Rock.  Very  obviously  Sampson  Rock  was 
now  selling  that  same  stock.  Sampson  Rock  was  tak 
ing  a  very  fair  loss  on  this  operation  and  that  was 
a  sign  the  stock  was  going  lower,  which  was  a  sign 
that  whoever  bought  it  from  him  would  lose.  This 

120 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

last    nearly    made    Harding    cheerful,    and    he    said, 
briskly: 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Rock." 

"See  Valentine  if  you  want  a  check  now."  Harding 
turned  to  go. 

"Good-morning,  Harding,"  said  Rock,  very  politely. 

"Good-morning,"  answered  the  unpopular  man,  with 
out  turning  his  head,  and  he  left  the  room. 

"Why  all  that,  Dad?"  asked  Sam,  impatiently.  He 
was  not  aware  that  he  was  frowning. 

"He  has  a  branch  office  in  Richmond  and  does  con 
siderable  business  for  people  there.  The  Virginia  Cen 
tral  general  offices  are  in  Richmond." 

"And  people  here  will  therefore  assume  that  he  is 
selling  for  the  home  crowd!"  Sam  said  this  quickly. 
Harding  had  gathered  impressions  from  his  father  and 
his  father  again  had  not  lied;  and  people  would  gather 
impressions  from  Harding's  selling;  and  his  father  had 
not  lied.  In  thinking,  Rock  probably  would  say,  every 
thing  is  in  knowing  how  and  what  to  think.  Sam  him 
self  was  beginning  to  think  what  his  father  would  think. 

Rock  rang  for  Valentine. 

"Valentine,  take  these  orders:  Virginia  Central  at 
the  opening." 

Valentine  took  a  lead-pencil  and  a  small  pad  from 
his  pocket. 

"Meighan  &  Cross;  sell  five  thousand;  to  be  dis 
tributed  among  ten  men;  let  them  use  commission- 
houses.  Wilkins,  buy  ten  thousand  himself,  at  the 
opening;  let  them  clear  it."  This  meant  the  transac 
tions  would  be  put  through  the  clearing-house  in  the 
brokers*  own  names  and  nobody  save  themselves  could 
tell  who  the  principal  was.  Many  principals  would  be 
suspected. — "That's  all  for  the  present." 

121 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"Why  do  you  buy  more  than  you  sell,  if  you  want 
the  price  to  go  down?"  asked  Sam. 

"I  want  the  price  to  rally  a  little,  so  that  Harding's 
order  will  have  the  proper  effect.  It  will  look  as  if, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  mysterious  and  persistent  sell 
ing — this  time  from  Virginia — the  stock  would  naturally 
have  rallied.  There  will  be  more  selling  then,  by 
Meighan  &  Cross's  ten  selling-brokers.  Wilkins's  ten 
thousand  shares  take  care  of  my  own  five  thousand, 
which  I  gave  out  merely  to  make  the  stock  active,  and 
will  offset  an  additional  five  thousand  shares  of  out 
side  selling.  I  don't  think  there  will  be  more  outside 
selling  than  that  at  the  opening,  as  most  people  will 
prefer  to  wait  and  see  what  tendency  the  stock  will 
show.  If  it  rallies  they  won't  sell  at  all.  There  will 
be  probably  some  buying  by  room-traders  when  they  see 
Wilkins  taking  ten  thousand  shares.  Dunlap  has  men 
with  orders  to  buy  one  thousand  shares  every  eighth 
of  a  point  down — five  men,  each  taking  two  hundred — 
so  that  it  won't  look  as  if  anybody  in  particular  were 
accumulating  it  on  the  decline.  That  stock  will  be 
salted  away,  though  we'll  lend  it  freely  enough  to  the 
shorts  if  they  want  it.  The  stock  must  be  kept  active 
and  I  must  get  the  price  down  without  losing  stock. 
The  newspapers  will  talk  about  it,  and  as  it  goes  down 
they  will  print  nothing  but  the  sad  news  they  get  from 
the  people  who  speculate  in  it.  In  order  to  accumulate 
twenty  thousand  shares ,  I'll  have  to  sell  eighty  thousand  or 
one  hundred  thousand  shares  and  buy  one  hundred  thou 
sand  or  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand,  because — " 

"I  see!"  said  Sam.  It  was  always  the  same — the 
master  of  the  ticker  against  the  slaves  of  the  ticker, 
the  man  who  knew  against  the  mob  that  guessed. 
He  would  wait — and  study. 

122 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

The  ticker  began  to  whir  and  click.  Sam  approached 
it. 

"London  prices,"  laughed  his  father,  sympathetically, 
at  the  youthful  impatience.  Sam  began  to  read  the 
quotations.  They  meant  something  more  than  figures 
now, 

"V.  C.  is  down  three-quarters,"  he  called  out. 

"H'm!"  grunted  his  father,  not  unamiably. 

"Good-morning!" — Dunlap  entered  with  his  chronic 
look  of  dissatisfaction.  "Why,  hello,  Sam!"  He 
shook  hands  and  asked:  "What  are  you  doing  here  at 
this  time  of  day?  Trying  to  injure  your  health?" 

"Good-morning,  Dan.  Look  pleasant.  I'm  here  to 
help  you  out."  Dunlap  was  smiling  now.  Sampson 
Rock  watched  him.  Everybody  liked  Sam.  That 
would  be  a  valuable  asset,  if  Sam  learned  to  be  intelli 
gently  business-like. 

"What  orders  have  you  to  give  Dan,  Sam?"  asked 
Rock. 

Sam  looked  at  his  father's  face.  The  expression 
there  was  half  serious,  half  quizzical.  He  understood 
it  was  a  test,  playfully  meant,  perhaps,  but  the  Old 
Man  would  not  be  displeased  if  it  were  taken  seriously. 
Sam's  mind  began  to  work,  and,  as  he  thought,  the 
speed  of  his  mental  machinery  quickened.  The  price 
was  to  go  down.  That  was  the  main  object  of  the 
campaign.  But  to-day,  at  first,  it  must  go  up  a  little, 
so  that  Harding's  order  might  have  the  proper  effect 
and  wipe  out  the  first  rally  and  leave  the  market  ripe 
for  a  further  decline — unless,  improbable  as  it  now 
looked,  unexpected  opposition  were  met.  There  must 
be  ways  of  doing  this,  and  intelligent  brokers  to  do  it. 
He  knew  neither  ways  nor  brokers,  but  Dunlap  did,  and 
Dunlap  need  not  know  that  Sam  did  not  know. 

9  123 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Sam  looked  at  his  father  and  said:  "The  news 
papers  say  insiders  must  be  selling  because  they  know 
something  about  the  condition  of  the  property  that  the 
public  doesn't." 

His  father  nodded  noncommittally. 

Sam  turned  to  Dunlap  and  said:  "Dan,  I  don't 
know  whether  you  have  the  brains  to  understand  the 
mysteries  of  high  finance."  He  shook  his  head  du 
biously  ;  that  was  to  gain  time ;  he  did  it  very  well. 

"When  the  stock  sells  at  thirty-eight— you  will  let 
them  have  five  thousand  shares;  at  thirty-seven  an 
other  five  thousand;  at  thirty-six  another  five  thou 
sand;  at  thirty-five — " 

"Hold  on,"  laughed  Sampson  Rock. 

"At  thirty -five,"  continued  Sam  imperturbably, 
changing  his  plan  on  the  instant,  "you  will  buy  as 
much  as  you  can  get  without  putting  up  the  price  above 
thirty-six  and  one-half."  His  father  had  checked  him 
in  time,  and  Sam  had  turned  as  though  he  had  really 
meant  to  do  so  of  his  own  accord.  He  felt  a  glow  of 
mild  excitement. 

Dunlap  smiled.  "That's  fine,  Sam.  You  are  a 
Napoleon  of  Finance." 

"I  am.  But  first,  Daniel,  make  the  stock  open  at 
least  as  high  as  thirty-nine  and  then  get  it  up  to  thirty- 
nine  and  one-half." 

"But  if  I  get  it  up  to  thirty-nine  and  one-half  how 
can  I  sell  the  five  thousand  at  thirty-six  and  thirty- 
seven  and  thirty-eight  and — " 

"Daniel  G.,  just  get  Virginia  Central  up  to  thirty- 
nine  and  a  half  and  you  can  spare  yourself  the  fatigue 
of  thinking.  We'll  do  the  rest." 

Rock  laughed  approvingly.  High  financial  practices 
had  not  killed  his  sense  of  humor.  Besides,  the  ticker 

*  124 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

was  still ;  he  had  time  to  laugh.  Dunlap  looked  at  him; 
then  he  looked  at  Sam. 

"The  orders  go;  see?"  said  Sam. 

Dunlap  turned  to  Rock. 

"They  go,  Dan,"  laughed  the  Old  Man. 

"Dan,  there  are  other  brokers — intelligent  brokers, 
looking  for  a  job."  Sam  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"Hey!  what  about  the  money?  You  must  put  up 
some  margin,"  said  Dunlap,  sternly.  To  him  Sam  was 
still  a  boy,  Sam  felt  this;  therefore  he  smiled  and 
answered: 

"Charge  it  to  the  Old  Man."  He  said  it  so  naturally, 
as  if  from  a  lifetime's  practice,  that  Rock  and  Dunlap 
laughed. 

Sam  was  not  laughing;  he  was  thinking.  With 
money  many  things  were  easy  to  do — good  things  and 
things  not  so  good.  With  still  more  money,  a  man 
could  pick  and  choose  what  things  to  do.  Money  that 
made  more  money,  and  money  that  did  not  have  to 
make  it,  but  always  money — the  ability  to  do — power. 
That  was  what  money  meant:  power — for  good  or  evil. 

It  was  only  a  child  playing  with  adult  machinery. 
Nevertheless,  money  began  to  mean  something  to 
Sampson  Rock,  Jr. 


IX 


SAM'S  gaze  was  fixed  on  the  tape,  waiting  for  the 
game  to  begin,  for  the  "absorption"  of  Virginia 
Central  to  proceed.  He  looked  at  his  father  and  won 
dered  vaguely  how  little  excited  the  general-in-chief 
was.  Rock  was  composedly  reading  letters,  throwing 
some  into  the  waste-basket,  scribbling  memoranda  or 
initials  on  others  and  laying  them  aside,  writing  under 
most,  on  his  desk. 

A  telephone  rang.     Rock  looked  up  and  said: 

"Which  bell  was  that,  Sam?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Sam.  There  were  half  a 
dozen  on  the  long  table.  The  bell  rang  again. 

"This  one,"  said  Sam.  It  was  the  last,  the  farthest 
from  him.  It  looked  very  new. 

Sampson  Rock  took  up  the  telephone. 

"Hello!  Yes.  —  What?  —  Don't  be  in  too  great  a 
hurry.  I  think  it  ought  to  cross  thirty -nine. — Yes. — 
What? — More  selling  than —  Well,  then,  you'd  better 
get  it  all  off  as  early  as  possible. — I  expect  to  see  a 
lively  opening;  you  might  help. — Thanks." 

To  Sam's  look  of  inquiry  Rock  said: 

"That's  Billy  Graves,  one  of  the  specialists  in  V.  C. 
He  says  he  has  more  selling  than  buying  orders  on  his 
books.  He  executes  orders  from  the  commission  men 
who  can't  watch  the  stock  all  the  time  when  their 
orders  are  away  from  the  market.  I've  told  him — " 

126 


'"IT    OUGHT    TO    CROSS    THIRTY-NINE* 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"Yes;  but  why  did  you  tell  him  anything  at  all ?"  in 
terrupted  Sam. 

"I  suppose  he  makes  pocket-money  trading  in  the 
stock.  He  tells  me  what  orders  he  has  on  his  books. 
I  can't  pay  him  in  money.  But  he  takes  the  equiv 
alent.  And  he  won't  tell  anybody  what  I  tell  him." 
Rock  finished  reflectively:  "  The  pocket-money  would 
stop." 

It  sounded  like  bribery.  But  before  Sam's  indigna 
tion  could  become  either  deep  or,  indeed,  concrete,  his 
father  went  back  to  his  letters,  and,  instead  of  hot  dis 
gust,  there  came  to  Sam  the  cold  conviction  that 
Sampson  Rock  was  obliged  to  have  information  and 
reports  from  everybody;  he  needed  a  legion  of  scouts — 
willing  hands,  willing  to  serve  and  willing  to  be  "cross 
ed"  with  pieces  of  gold.  It  was  all  in  the  game;  there 
was  no  blind  chance  about  it.  Knowledge  was  power, 
and  power  was  money. 

The  ticker  began  its  record.  Sampson  Rock  took  his 
station  beside  it,  elbow  to  elbow  with  Sam.  It  printed 
sales  and  prices  of  a  score  of  stocks,  but  no  Virginia 
Central. 

"How's  this,  Dad?  No  Virginia  Central  yet!" 
asked  Sam. 

"That's  a  good  sign,"  answered  Rock,  not  lifting  his 
gaze  from  the  tape.  "It  means  such  heavy  transac 
tions  at  the  opening  that  the  ticker  reporters  were  too 
busy  getting  all  the  sales  to  telegraph  it  to  the  ticker- 
operator  from  the  first  one.  It's  very  hard  when 
there's  a  big  crowd  about  the  post,  all  buying  and  selling 
at  the  same  time  to —  Ah!" 

The  ticker  unexcitedly  printed:  "V.  C.  opened 
8000  shares  38  J  to  39."  Then  after  a  few  others: 
"V.  C.  1000  39,  38i  39—500.  39i-i— 300.  |." 

127 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

' '  Ah ! "  echoed  Sam.  He  drew  in  his  breath.  ' '  Hard 
ing  will  soon — " 

"V.C.  iooo39i-i;i;39i" 

The  ticker  then  began  to  print  quotations  in  Great 
Southern,  Pennsylvania  Central,  New  York  Midland — 
stocks  Sam  was  not  interested  in,  but  which,  he  could 
not  help  observing,  his  father  studied  as  carefully  as 
he  did  Virginia  Central. 

Presently  Virginia  Central  came  out  once  more.  "A 
thousand  shares  sold  at  39,  500  at  J,  700  at  f;  then 
2500  at  39^,  and  300  at  f,  200  at  -j,  100  at  f ;  then 
5000  at  39|." 

"Harding!"  said  Sam  aloud,  to  himself.  He  looked 
at  his  father  for  confirmation. 

Rock  nodded  calmly.  And  after  a  moment,  his  eyes 
still  on  the  tape,  he  answered:  "Probably." 

The  rest  of  the  market  was  rising  fractionally.  Then 
Virginia  Central  came  out  again — "  1000  at  39^,  500  at 
39! ,  then  2500  at  39^,  600  at  f,  1000  at  J,  1000  at  f , 
1700  at  i,  1000  at  f ,  1700  at  £."  It  was  plain  that  there 
was  fighting  between  the  buyers  and  the  sellers.  That 
fractional  fluctuation,  down  to  three-eighths,  up  to 
one-half,  thrice  repeated,  thrilled  Sam.  Almost  he  saw 
two  wrestlers  locked  in  each  other's  embrace,  swaying, 
swaying.  .  .  .  Presently  it  came:  "  1000  at  f,  4000  at  ^, 
500  at  f ,  1000  at  J,  1500  at  J,  5000  at  39!"  The  down 
ward  pressure  had  overcome.  They  were  fighting — • 
father's  brokers  and  the  rest  of  the  world — and  then 
Sam  lost  sight  of  the  fight  because  the  tape  began  to 
quote  other  stocks.  But  he  waited  for  the  next 
glimpse,  saying  nothing,  thinking  of  nothing  but  of 
the  fight.  The  ticker  was  talking  to  him;  not  as  it 
talked  to  the  mob,  but  as  it  talked  to  the  few. 

Valentine  entered.     He  said: 
'  128 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"  Harding  sold  ten  thousand  Virginia  Central  at 
thirty-nine  and  a  half." 

"Very  well,"  said  Rock.  "He's  a  very  good  broker, 
Sam.  Wait  a  moment,  Valentine."  His  eyes  had  left 
the  tape. 

"V.  C.  1500  38$;  1000  39;  800  38$;  500  |;  {;  f;  }; 
39."  The  stock  showed  what  financial  writers  some 
times  called  resiliency. 

"Valentine,  tell  Harding  to  sell  ten  thousand  more  at 
the  market  and  to  report  quickly."  As  Valentine  closed 
the  door  Rock  remarked  to  Sam:  "He  worked  off  the 
ten  thousand  shares  easily.  More  pressure  is  needed. 
I  won't  tell  him  to  sell  the  second  ten  thousand  shares  as 
low  as  possible,  because  he  might  do  it  too  obviously. 
But  I'll  tell  him  to  report  quickly.  He'll  not  stand 
on  ceremony;  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  will  not  sell  as 
though  he  wanted  to  give  away  the  stock — only  to  get 
rid  of  it  as  quickly  as  possible.  You  can't  be  too  par 
ticular  over  details,  Sam.  If  the  stock  is  wanted  by 
anybody  else,  this  second  lot  of  Harding's  will  show  it 
plainly;  but  if  it's  as  I  think,  it  will  help  Dan.  And 
Tuttle's  peace  of  mind,  too,"  he  added,  a  trifle  mali 
ciously.  "By  three  o'clock  to-day  he  will  have  saved 
fifty  thousand  dollars."  Sam  frowned  and  said  noth 
ing.  There  were  two  sides  to  the  Tuttle  matter.  He 
saw  that ;  but  the  fight  was  on.  There  was  no  time  to 
philosophize. 

At  that  moment  Virginia  Central  was  the  most  ac 
tive  stock  of  all,  and  the  activity  attracted  to  the 
"  post " — it  was  No.  1 1— the  cream  of  the  room-traders: 
the  professional  gamblers  whose  one  request  was  not 
that  a  stock  should  be  good  or  bad  so  that  they  might 
buy  it  or  sell  it  intelligently,  but  that  it  might  be  active, 
so  that  they  might  ma.ke — or  lose — their  money  quickly. 

129 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

From  all  over  the  big  room  they  came  running,  their 
nostrils  dilated  quiveringly.  as  though  they  scented 
golden  prey.  For  a  moment  their  eager  eyes  looked 
at  the  latest  price  on  the  marker,  and  studied  the  faces 
of  those  who  were  offering  it,  or  bidding  for  it,  at  the 
same  time  that  their  eager  ears  were  listening  to  the 
voices  of  those  who  were  selling  it  or  buying  it,  taking 
in  all  the  externals  of  the  trading,  receiving  a  thousand 
little  impressions  in  a  fraction  of  time,  so  that  they  too 
might  buy  or  sell  according  to  their  logical,  but  un- 
analyzed,  impulse.  The  relative  ease  with  which, 
after  selling  at  thirty-nine  and  five-eighths,  the  stock 
had  gone  down  to  below  thirty-nine  convinced  them  that 
the  preponderance  of  heavy  artillery  was  on  the  bear 
or  downward  side.  Somebody  was  more  anxious  to 
dispose  of  the  stock  in  bulk  than  anybody  seemed  to  be 
to  acquire  it,  wherefore  they,  too,  sold,  and  the  price 
yielded  further.  Dunlap  waited  a  moment  and  then 
sold  his  first  five  thousand — at  thirty-eight. 

Immediately  after,  Harding  came  running  into  the 
crowd,  to  execute  his  second  order.  He  heard  a  voice 
shout:  "  Seven  -  eighths  for  a  thousand!" — and  he 
pounced  on  the  wildly  waving  hand  that  he  thought 
belonged  to  the  voice  and  shrieked  "Sold!"  There 
followed  pandemonium — "A  hundred  at  eight!"  "Any 
part  of  a  thousand  at  eight!"  "Three-quarters  for 
two  thousand!"  "  Seven  -  eighths  for  -five  hundred!" 
To  the  man  who  bid  thirty-seven  and  seven-eighths 
for  five  hundred,  Harding  sold  the  stock,  so  quickly 
that  the  man's  lips  had  not  yet  closed  after  his  shout 
when  Harding  was  jotting  down  on  a  little  pad  the 
broker's  name,  the  amount  and  the  price.  The 
traders  who  had  been  bidding  seven-eighths  for 
the  stock  divined  that  Harding  had  more  to  sell, 

130 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

divined  it  by  their  sixth — or  broker's — sense  and  not 
by  Harding 's  face,  on  which  they  could  see  only  his 
chronic  scowl.  A  commission  man  who  was  willing  to 
pay  seven-eighths  for  two  hundred  shares  said  so  and 
was  obliged  by  Harding.  Then  nobody  bid  more  than 
thirty-seven  and  three-quarters.  A  few  thousand  sold 
at  that  price,  Harding  saying  nothing,  as  though  his 
authorized  figure  was  seven-eighths.  The  intelligent 
mob,  however,  prudently  reduced  their  bids  to  five- 
eighths.  They  did  not  desire  to  buy;  they  merely 
wished  to  "feel  out"  Harding. 

Harding  was  a  good  broker.  His  order  was  to  sell 
at  the  market  or  prevailing  price.  By  pausing  as  he 
did,  he  could  determine  whether  it  was  better  to  try 
to  work  off  the  balance  of  his  order  gradually,  or  to 
press  it  for  sale.  He  perceived  that  the  stock  would 
sell  much  lower  than  thirty-seven  and  five-eighths  if 
anybody  gave  it  a  push,  and  thought  that  if  he  didn't 
do  it  some  one  else  would,  which  would  mean  that  he 
would  have  to  sell  at  another  man's  price.  And  so, 
when  the  others  kept  on  bidding  five-eighths,  he  filled 
their  wants  before  they  had  time  to  change  their  minds, 
and,  as  the  price  declined,  he  followed,  hot  on  their 
trail,  selling  all  they  were  willing  to  take  until  it  looked 
as  if  he  were  "slaughtering"  his  order,  as  if  he  did  not 
care  for  his  customers'  bitter  reproaches  later — at 
thirty-seven  and  five-eighths,  at  one-half,  at  three- 
eighths,  at  a  quarter,  and  the  last  hundred  at  thirty- 
seven  and  one-eighth.  Those  traders  who  had  begun 
to  sell  short  at  thirty-eight  thought  there  would  be 
some  buying  orders  at  thirty-seven — it  was  a  two  and 
one-half  points'  decline  and  there  ought  to  be  a  rally — 
so  they  began  to  cover  at  thirty-seven  and  one-eighth, 
to  forestall  the  thirty-seven  buyers.  They  did  not 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

know  how  much  more  was  coming  until  Dunlap,  his 
face  convulsed  as  with  mingled  anger  and  terror,  shrilly 
implored  the  crowd  to  buy  five  thousand  from  him  at 
thirty-seven.  The  Harding  selling,  it  was  obvious  to 
the  Room,  was  for  Richmond  people,  and  Richmond 
people  of  all  others  should  know  when  to  sell  Virginia 
Central.  And  now,  on  top  of  it,  this  selling  by  Dunlap! 
It  meant  that  Old  Man  Rock  was  getting  out  in  a  hurry. 
That  also  was  a  "good"  selling.  Therefore,  they  fol 
lowed  the  new  lead  and  sold — thousands  upon  thou 
sands,  until,  at  thirty-six,  Dunlap  sold  his  second  five 
thousand. 

That  clearly,  unmistakably,  meant  that  a  bad  break 
was  coming — it  was  coming  whether  Rock  was  selling 
to  be  rid  of  stock  he  had  and  didn't  want  or  whether 
he  was  selling  stock  he  did  not  have  but  wished  to  buy 
cheaper.  Then  the  astute  mob  went  mad,  visibly  and 
audibly  insane,  and  offered  a  car-load  of  Virginia  Cen 
tral  stock  at  thirty-six,  at  thirty-five  and  one-half,  and 
the  commission-houses  that  had  "stop-loss"  orders  at 
thirty-six  also  sold — real  stock,  theirs,  not  merely  con 
tracts — and  the  specialists  sold  and  everybody  sold — 
excepting  Dunlap,  his  face  no  longer  panic-stricken, 
but  watchful.  He  hovered  about  the  edge  of  the 
clamoring,  swaying  mob,  whispering  to  trusty  brokers 
to  buy  V.  C. — one  thousand  shares  to  one,  five  hundred 
to  another,  twenty-five  hundred  to  a  third,  any  part  of 
five  thousand  to  a  fourth,  darting  from  one  to  the 
other,  jotting  down  the  amounts  as  he  gave  each  order, 
until  the  traders  realized  that,  if  two  score  of  people 
were  frantically  selling  that  particular  stock,  some 
party  or  parties  unknown  were  taking  the  offerings  in 
sufficient  bulk  to  prevent  it  from  crashing  down  to  the 
zero  abyss — somebody  who  looked  like  many  bodies. 

132 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Thrice  the  bear  battalions,  scenting  easy  money, 
hurled  themselves  against  that  buying  rampart.  But 
it  was  like  stabbing  a  ghost — there  was  no  impact,  no 
shock,  no  ominous  trembling  and  tottering  before  the 
collapse,  no  sense  of  having  touched  a  vital  spot.  They 
could  not  break  through  the  "peg"  at  thirty-five. 
Therefore,  it  was  time  to  retreat,  to  buy.  But  some 
body  was  there  before  them,  somebody  who  had  taken 
all  the  stock  that  everybody  was  willing  to  sell  below 
thirty-six,  and  in  a  jiffy  the  stock  was  back  to  thirty- 
six  and  one-half.  At  that  price  Dunlap  stopped  buy 
ing.  The  traders  kept  on ;  but  they  bought  stock  that 
came  from  belated  commission-houses  whose  customers 
had  been  frightened  but  could  not  make  up  their  minds 
fast  enough  to  sell  before,  when  the  price  was  sliding 
downward  so  breathlessly,  and  were  selling  now,  their 
fear  having  caught  its  second  wind.  Dunlap  had  sold 
fifteen  thousand  shares  himself,  Meighan  &  Cross  five 
thousand,  and  Harding  twenty  thousand,  forty  thou 
sand  shares  in  all,  in  less  than  two  hours.  But  Rock's 
brokers  had  bought  fifty-one  thousand  shares,  so  that 
by  the  end  of  the  day  the  great  manipulator  was  the 
possessor  of  eleven  thousand  shares  more  than  he  had 
owned  the  day  before;  and  Virginia  Central  closed  at 
thirty-six  and  one-eighth.  Moreover,  it  had  become 
an  active  trading-stock. 

Anybody  with  money  enough  can  plunge,  but  it 
takes  somebody  with  money  and  brains  to  plunge 
intelligently.  To  paint  certain  effects  broadly  with  big 
blocks  of  stocks  and  to  do  miniatures  are  'two  different 
things.  It  is  only  the  generals  who  do  not  count  their 
dead  that  can  handle  big  bodies  of  men  as  easily  as 
regimental  commanders  handle  their  little  companies. 
Whenever  the  Room  thought  of  buying,  Rock  discour- 

133 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

aged  them  by  offering  the  entire  capital  stock  at  an 
eighth  above  the  last  quotation.  They  thereupon  recog 
nized  the  futility  of  playing  for  a  further  rally.  When 
ever  they  sought  to  drive  it  down,  he  bought  all  they 
sold,  until,  fearing  a  steel-trap,  they  desisted.  He  lost 
a  little  stock  one  moment,  only  to  get  it  back  very 
promptly  the  next.  It  made  sentiment  feverish,  ner 
vous;  and  out  of  the  womb  of  uncertainty  was  born  a 
multitude  of  rumors.  Why  ?  why  ?  why  ? 

The  one  thing  obvious  was  that  the  South  was 
selling  that  stock.  Why  ?  And  who  was  buying  it  ? 
And  why  ?  The  financial  reporters  asked  the  brokers 
the  same  questions  the  brokers  had  been  asking  them 
selves.  Some  brokers  had  been  watching  Virginia 
Central  all  day.  Who  sold  it  ?  Probably  the  insiders, 
they  said.  Who  bought  it?  Why,  everybody  and 
nobody  in  particular,  scattering  lots,  covering  by  the 
traders,  etc. 

Not  a  soul  suspected  Rock.  That  was  the  art  of  it. 
He  chose  his  time — and  his  men — well. 


X 


SAM,  standing  beside  the  ticker  in  his  father's  office, 
could  not  appreciate  the  subtler  shadings  of  the 
manipulation,  though  he  could  read  the  turmoil  and 
the  frenzy  of  gamblers  in  the  printed  figures  on  the 
tape.  But  he  realized  that  the  objective  point  of  the 
campaign  had  been  brought  nearer.  His  father  ex 
plained  to  him  why  it  was  not  possible  to  achieve  all 
in  one  day;  also,  why  the  selling  of  the  professionals, 
while  helpful,  was  not  sufficient.  Those  unattached 
soldiers  of  fortune,  fighting  under  one  flag  to-day  and 
another  to-morrow,  obeying  no  commands  save  when 
uttered  by  the  desire  of  gain,  advancing  and  retreating 
not  as  they  were  told  but  as  they  were  compelled  by 
superior  force,  thought  only  of  fractions  and  to-day. 
They  dealt  in  contracts,  and  Rock  desired  the  actual 
stock.  That  would  come  later.  Manipulation,  a  much- 
abused  and  much-misused  word,  meant  advertising  by 
means  of  the  ticker.  Some  advertisements  advised 
people  to  buy  and  to  hold  stocks;  others  urged  the 
entire  world  to  sell.  But  the  effect  of  all  advertising 
is  cumulative.  One  entire  page  one  day  and  nothing 
more  for  a  month  was  not  as  efficient  as  only  a  column 
every  day;  the  same  advertisement,  the  same  advice 
— corroborated  by  the  voice  of  the  ticker,  which  does 
not  lie. 

It  was  when  Harding  had  finished  selling  the  second 
135 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

ten  thousand  shares  and  the  stock  had  begun  to  go 
down  with  some  degree  of  earnestness — Sam  almost 
could  imagine  the  market  as  an  invalid  of  a  sudden 
sitting  up  very  straight,  the  face  livid  and  a  hand 
pressed  to  the  heart — that  Gilmartin,  of  the  Wall  Street 
News  Agency,  came  in. 

"  Good  -  morning,  Mr.  Rock."  His  pudgy,  smooth- 
shaven  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  There  was  an 
air  of  assurance  about  him  that  he  had  not  possessed 
before.  He  was  almost  jaunty — fearless  for  hours  at 
a  time.  He  had  the  confidence  in  himself  and  in  a 
kindly  disposed  Providence  that  came  from  his  success 
ful  short  sales  of  Virginia  Central — four  thousand  dollars 
in  paper  profits,  which  could  be  converted  into  real 
money  by  merely  giving  an  order  or  two.  The  need  to 
be  any  man's  slave  was  gone ;  want  wore  no  spurs.  It 
showed  on  his  face — the  great,  golden  independence 
that  glitters  in  the  eyes  of  those  men  who  are  beyond 
vain  wishes  of  food  and  raiment  and  a  roof,  and  whose 
words,  moreover,  are  considered  precious  by  those 
people  to  whom  those  same  words  also  carry  their 
promise  of  gold. 

To  Gilmartin  his  fellow-men  had  grown  suddenly 
lovable  —  servile,  deferential,  their  pores  exuding  a 
pleasurable  incense.  For  how  can  fellow -men  listen 
but  with  their  souls  if  in  the  silence  following  the 
master's  speech  they  seem  to  hear  the  clink  of  coins — 
the  coins  themselves  tripping  on  the  very  heels  of  the 
words  ? 

Gilmartin's  advice  on  Virginia  Central  had  been  a 
howling  success,  a  delirium  of  wealth  to  those  who 
had  believed  him  and  followed  it,  selling  the  stock 
short  at  forty-five.  More  grateful  than  Gilmartin  was 
to  the  great  Rock  were  these  dozens  of  greed-stricken 

'  136 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

fellow-men  to  the  great  Gilmartin.  For  days  they  had 
hung  on  his  words.  They  had  nice  paper  profits; 
should  they  convert  them  into  good  hard  cash  ?  Turn 
an  abstract  pleasure  into  a  concrete  delight?  Gilmar 
tin,  proudly  nonchalant,  profoundly  sapient,  had  in 
telligently  opined  nay!  The  eyes  of  the  golden  proph 
et's  followers  had  glistened  and  their  lips  had  made 
haste  to  smile  ingratiatingly.  Gilmartin  was  the  mouth 
piece  of  Providence  working  benevolently  through  the 
medium  of  the  ticker.  Did  not  Gilmartin  think  the 
golden  harvest  yet  ready  for  the  gathering?  Thrice- 
blessed  Gilmartin — for  the  harvest  then  would  be  even 
greater.  They  had  sown  hopes  and  hundreds;  they 
would  reap  joys  and  thousands.  Gilmartin  knew  every 
thing;  their  faces  showed  that.  Gilmartin  held  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand  the  destinies  of  the  Virginia  Central 
Railroad;  his  face  showed  that. 

"I'll  tell  you  when  to  cash  in,"  he  said,  very  gra 
ciously,  very  kindly,  to  those  who  asked.  "I  am  not 
covering  mine  yet."  That  settled  it.  Gilmartin  was 
not  covering  his  shorts;  whatever  Gilmartin  did,  that 
was  the  wise  thing  to  do,  for  he  knew  when;  and  what 
he  did  they  would  do — that  and  nothing  else. 

And  so,  because  Gilmartin  was  to  them  even  more 
than  Rock  was  to  Gilmartin,  Gilmartin  had  taken  to 
thinking  well  of  Gilmartin.  It  showed  in  his  walk,  in 
the  poise  of  his  head,  in  his  gestures,  in  his  eyes,  even 
in  the  glitter  of  his  red  hair,  which  was  lustrous  as 
with  a  varnish  of  gold.  Only  a  merciful  vestige  of  com 
mon-sense  prevented  complete  auto-hypnotism  and  kept 
him  from  being  Olympian  in  Rock's  office  now.  His 
lungs  might  have  filled  to  choking  with  the  incense 
of  his  tip  -  following  flatterers.  But,  as  he  spoke  to 
Sampson  Rock,  the  great  and  golden  Gilmartin  was 

137 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

not  arrogant  —  he  himself  desired  to  know  when  to 
"cash  in"  his  own  paper  profits.  Of  course,  if  Rock 
was  ugly  about  it,  Gilmartin  could  go  away  wrapped 
in  the  soothing  dignity  of  what  paper  profits  there 
were.  He  wished  all  the  money  he  could  get,  but 
what  money  he  already  had  on  his  deal  gave  him  a 
sense  of  immunity  that  kept  him  from  servility.  He 
carried  no  chip  on  either  shoulder.  He  was  human; 
but  it  did  not  follow  that  he  must  be  stupid. 

"Good-morning,  Gilmartin.  How  do  you  do  this  fine 
day?"  said  Rock,  amiably,  almost  playfully.  Harding's 
selling  had  begun  to  prevail. 

"Finer  even  than  the  day,"  replied  Gilmartin,  de 
lighted  with  the  friendly  reception. 

"This  is  my  son.  Sam,  Mr.  Gilmartin  is  from  the 
Wall  Street  News  Agency." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Rock,"  said  Gil- 
martin,  boldly  extending  an  honest  hand.  Sam  took 
it  and  echoed  the  words  of  Gilmartin's  joy. 

"What's  new,  Gilmartin?"  asked  Rock. 

"They're  selling  it  for  keeps,"  answered  Gilmartin, 
very  quickly,  almost  felicitatingly,  as  though  he  knew 
he  was  conveying  news  that  must  be  particularly 
pleasing  to  Mr.  Sampson  Rock. 

"Selling  what?"  asked  Mr.  Sampson  Rock,  very  ob 
viously  not  understanding  Gilmartin's  "it." 

"Virginia  Central,  of  course,"  said  Gilmartin.  Then 
he  felt  a  slight  pang  of  fear.  Was  it  possible  the  Old 
Man  was  not  the  arch-villain  of  this  rapturous  break, 
and,  therefore,  not  the  right  man  to  ask  about  the  ex 
act  time  to  cover?  The  paper  profit  began  to  trem 
ble,  and  with  it  Gilmartin's  heart. 

"Oh,  that!"  said  Rock.  "Oh  yes!  You  are  short 
of  it,  I  think?"  Rock  laughed  understandingly,  sym- 

138 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

pathetically — a  kindly  Rothschild  listening  to  the  ped 
dler's  tale  of  a  good  day  in  shoestrings  and  collar-but 
tons.  "Great  thing,  to  see  a  stock  go  to  pot — when  you 
are  short  of  it,  eh  ?  Well,  what  do  you  hear  about  it  ?" 

"The  Richmond  crowd  are  selling  it  to  beat  the 
band.  They  know  what's  wrong,  you  bet!" 

"What's  wrong?"  asked  Rock,  sharply. 

"Search  me.     I  suspect  it's  the  London — " 

"Pshaw,  that's  old!" 

"It  may  be  old,  but  Colonel  Robinson  led  every  one 
to  think  he  would  get  the  money  there.  I  guess  he'll 
be  busy  explaining  for  the  next  ten  years.  He's  great 
on  explanations,"  finished  Gilmartin,  wishing  to  please 
Rock — in  some  vague  way,  half -instinct,  he  thought  anti- 
Robinson  talk  would  sound  pleasantly  to  Rock's  ears. 

"He's  a  nice  fellow,"  said  Rock,  mildly  rebuking. 
Then  he  added,  amicably,  "You  must  have  quite  a 
profit,  Gilmartin?" 

"Do  you  think  I  ought  to  take  it?"  asked  Gilmartin, 
diving  into  the  opening  like  a  flash.  Rock's  answer 
would  mean  either  the  caress  of  the  gold  itself,  if  he 
said  to  cash  in,  or  the  warm  hope  of  still  more  to  come 
by  standing  pat. 

"I'm  not  running  a  kindergarten,"  answered  Rock. 
"It's  your  funeral.  But"  —  he  hesitated  —  "a  profit's 
a  profit.  No  man  ever  got  poor  taking  profits."  That 
is  as  old  as  "good-morning,"  and  as  meaningless. 

"Since  you  think  I'd  better  take  in  my  stock,  I'll — " 
began  Gilmartin,  as  he  thought,  adroitly. 

"I  haven't  said  a  thing  about  it,"  interjected  Rock, 
sharply.  "It's  your  own  lookout.  You  need  a  nurse. 
How  do  you  know  the  Richmond  crowd  is  selling?" 
If  Rock  had  been  angry  he  was  over  it  by  now. 

"Why — because  the  selling  is  for  them.  Harding 
139 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

has  sold  thirty  or  forty  thousand  shares."  This  was 
the  usual  exaggeration  of  the  Street.  "You  don't 
think  he'd  dare  sell  that  much  stock  short,  do  you?" 

"You  are  asking  me.  Don't!  It's  a  bad  habit  you 
have.  Drop  it!  I  am  asking  you." 

"Well,  I  know  it's  for  Richmond.  He's  got  the 
accounts  of  all  these  Southern — " 

' '  Oh ,  pshaw !     You  are  guessing  now. ' ' 

"I  am  not,"  retorted  Gilmartin,  indignantly.  "I 
know  it's  for  the  Richmond  aggregation."  He  pro 
ceeded  to  lie  to  Rock,  in  self-defence,  as  he  habitually 
lied  to  his  tip- worshippers  for  his  self-aggrandizement. 
"I'm  very  chummy  with  Harding's  cashier.  He  as 
much  as  admitted  to  me  a  minute  ago  that  it  was  for 
Richmond.  He  thinks  the  stock  is  going  much  lower." 
Perceiving  that  Rock  seemed  impressed,  he  went  on, 
with  the  air  of  imparting  vital  information ;  "I  myself 
think  it's  a  receivership."  His  manner  conveyed  that 
his  reasons  for  thinking  so  had  twice  the  solidity  of 
Gibraltar. 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  Rock.  "I've  warned  you 
several  times  to  go  easy  with  receivership  talk.  You'll 
be  bankrupting  the  Bank  of  England,  or  me,  some  day. 
Why  don't  you  call  Robinson  up  on  the  long-distance 
telephone  and  ask  him  point-blank?" 

"By  jingo,  that's  just  what  I'll  do  at  once!"  He 
started  to  go  out.  At  the  door  he  turned  and  said  to 
Rock,  "I'll  come  back  and  tell  you  what  he  says  before 
I  publish  it." 

"I  wish  you  would,  my  boy,"  said  Rock. 

He  looked  grateful,  thought  Gilmartin.  It  made  Gil- 
martin  feel  the  same  way — towards  luck — as  he  hurried 
away. 

Sam  looked  at  his  father,  frowning.     He  said: 
140 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

"He  thinks  just  as  you  thought  they  all  would." 

Rock  nodded,  said  " Sheep!"  and  looked  at  the  tape. 

Across  Sam's  mind  there  fleeted  a  thought  that  his 
father  had  not  lied ;  that  he  had  very  carefully  not  lied ; 
that  he  had  too  carefully  not  lied.  And  yet  the  whole 
thing  was  a  lie — and  a  cheap  lie.  The  game  interest 
ed  him  so  much  that  this  smallness  annoyed  him;  it 
seemed  unnecessary. 

Rock  rang  for  Valentine.  The  cashier  came  in,  a 
bundle  of  papers  in  one  hand. 

"Valentine,  telephone  Walter  Williams  to  come  over. 
I'll  see  him  here." 

Five  minutes  later  Walter  Williams  walked  in. 

"Ah,  good-morning,  Williams.  Come  here,  Sam, 
and  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Walter  Williams,  of  whom 
you've  heard  me  talk.  My  son." 

Williams  was  not  frowning.  The  ticker  had  smooth 
ed  out  the  chronic  frown  as  a  wrinkled  handkerchief  is 
smoothed  by  a  sad-iron.  He  was  looking  particularly 
well  pleased  with  Walter  Williams  and  the  rest  of  the 
misjudged  world.  He  also  glanced  at  the  ticker — twice 
in  six  seconds — longingly.  He  was  short  of  Virginia 
Central,  the  ticker  was  whirring  away  at  a  furious  rate, 
and  the  days  were  sunshiny. 

"Sam,  Mr.  Williams  is  the  best  railroad  accountant 
in  the  world.  If  anything  ever  happens  to  me,  and  you 
are  in  doubt,  consult  him.  He  is  a  radical  in  some 
things,  but  if  he  doesn't  bankrupt  you  in  the  first 
year  you'll  have  a  railroad." 

All  three  laughed.  It  struck  Walter  Williams  that 
he  was  one  of  the  Rock  family  now.  He  and  his  friends 
were  making  money  out  of  Virginia  Central  because 
they  had  followed  Papa  Rock's  advice.  He  felt  well-dis 
posed  towards  the  head  of  the  family ;  he  wished  to  make 

141 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

more  money.  There  was  no  time  like  the  present,  for 
the  favor  of  the  great  is  like  the  sunshine,  cheering  and 
profitable — while  it  lasts.  The  rule  about  hay -making 
was  a  golden  rule  indeed. 

"About  the  report,  Williams — " 

"Yes,  sir."  Almost  you  could  have  said  Williams 
had  cocked  his  ears,  his  face  took  on  such  a  look  of 
attentiveness.  The  Old  Man  had  said  that  when  he 
told  Williams  to  send  the  report  to  London  he  would 
buy  five  thousand  shares  of  Virginia  Central  for  the  ac 
countant.  That  meant  also  that  Walter  Williams  must 
take  in  his  short  line  and  warn  his  friends,  that  all  might 
grow  rich.  A  human  being  cock  his  ears  ?  Rock's  words 
would  have  made  a  stock-gambling  fish  cock  what  ought 
to  have  been  its  ears,  expectantly. 

"What  about  it,  Mr.  Rock ?    Time  to — er— mail  it ?" 

"N-no,  not  if  you  can  wait  a  few  days  more,  I  think," 
Rock  said,  reflectively,  exactly  as  though  he  were 
studying  an  abstract  proposition  instead  of  giving 
gambling  instructions.  "That  is,  if  you  can  consistent 
ly  do  so,  you  had  better  wait  a  few  days.  Yes."  He 
paused.  Then  he  went  on,  still  meditatively,  as  if  he 
were  not  thinking  of  Walter  Williams 's  short  sales: 
"Virginia  Central  has  several  points  to  go  before  it 
touches  bottom.  Yes."  He  nodded.  Williams  also 
nodded.  That  was  to  show  he  had  heard  Rock.  He 
had  also  heard  the  triumphant  paean  of  his  soul.  Every 
point  meant  five  hundred  dollars  to  him ;  there  were 
several  points  more,  Rock  said — several  times  five  hun 
dred  dollars.  The  money  was  walking  fleetly  towards 
Walter  Williams,  public  accountant,  railroad  expert, 
honest  man,  forty  years  old — and  not  yet  a  millionaire! 
He  mildly,  gratefully  felt  that  something  was  due  Rock 
— a  something  not  incompatible  with  the  accountant's 

*  142 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

sense  of  duty  towards  his  English  employers.  He 
therefore  said: 

"No  time  was  specified.  I  can  wait  a  few  days." 
The  delay  was  not  criminal.  His  whole  manner  show 
ed  that  he  was  doing  nothing  to  hurt  the  London 
people.  The  London  people  might  wonder  that  the 
stock  had  become  so  weak — but  a  coincidence  was  a 
coincidence. 

"There's  another  thing,"  Rock  went  on.  "Your 
report  is  too  long.  Were  you  told  to  make  sugges 
tions  as  to  what  might  be  done,  or  merely  to  report 
on  the  actual  condition  of  the  property  ?" 

"Only  on  the  physical  and  financial  condition  of  the 
road.  But  I — " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Rock,  good-naturedly.  "You 
could  not  help  it.  Look  here,  Sam,"  pointing  towards 
Williams,  "this  Walter  Williams  right  before  you  is  one 
of  the  men  I  told  you  about,  that  I  find  so  scarce,  who 
always  do  ten  times  more  than  they  are  paid  to  do 
simply  because  they  can't  help  doing  their  work 
thoroughly.  I  suppose  the  London  syndicate  paid 
him  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  dollars — "  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  Walter  Williams.  Williams  nodded  con- 
firmatively;  in  point  of  fact,  he  would  only  receive 
twenty-five  hundred  pounds  for  the  report,  but  Mr. 
Sampson  Rock  knew  what  the  job  was  really  worth, 
even  if  the  Englishmen  did  not  —  which  showed  that 
the  soul-malaria  of  the  ticker  had  filled  Williams's  sys 
tem  to  the  saturation-point — "for  a  piece  of  work  worth 
much  more.  What  does  he  do  ?  He  gives  them  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars,  not  because  he  loves  them,  nor 
out  of  charity,  but  because  he  couldn't  help  it.  It's  the 
artistic  pride,  Williams."  Rock  smiled  good-natured 
ly;  so  did  Mr.  Williams.  "It's  in  you.  Now,  I  don't 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

see  why  you  should  tell  them  what  they  ought  to  do. 
Just  report  how  you  found  the  road  and  its  books. 
Why  suggest  that  they  ought  to  do  anything  more?" 

Williams's  face  clouded.  He  was  proud  of  his  report ; 
he  thought  it  would  do  much  for  his  reputation.  Also, 
he  knew  why  Sampson  Rock  did  not  like  those  sug 
gestions  about  a  deal  with  the  Great  Southern,  the 
Roanoke's  rival.  But  Sampson  Rock,  who  had  been 
watching  Williams's  face,  went  on,  quickly: 

"Pshaw,  man,  don't  imagine  I'm  trying  to  get  you 
to  help  me.  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  Tell  them  what 
they  paid  you  for.  But  don't  give  your  brain;  sell  it 
to  them." 

Williams's  soul  rather  than  his  head — it  is  the  way  the 
get-rich-quick  microbe  works — told  him  that  Rock  was 
right.  He  had  shown  in  the  report  that  the  Virginia 
Central  was  in  very  poor  shape.  But  he  had  demon 
strated  also  how  the  same  poor  road  could  be  reor 
ganized,  strengthened,  made  to  pay;  how  by  spending 
a  million  or  two  the  value  of  the  property  would  be 
doubled  in  four  years,  possibly  in  three,  if  the  South 
grew  as  it  surely  must.  It  really  was  more  than  he  had 
been  asked  to  do. 

"Report  on  what  you  were  paid  to  report,"  repeated 
Rock,  putting  the  accountant's  thoughts  into  words. 
"Then,  if  you  wish,  write  them  that  you  can  tell  them 
how  they  can  invest  a  few  millions  very  profitably — 
and  tell  them  what  your  terms  are."  Rock  knew  that 
would  take  time,  and  he  wanted  a  clear  track  in  Vir 
ginia — for  a  few  weeks,  only  for  a  few  weeks.  But 
Williams  must  not  get  exaggerated  notions  of  his  own 
value;  and  Williams  was  intelligent — but  not  yet  a 
millionaire. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  began  Williams,  du- 
144 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

biously.  Rock  saw  that  he  had  won.  He  said  to 
Sam: 

"Williams  and  I  are  the  only  two  people  who  saw  the 
possibilities  of  this  road.  I  saw  them  first.  Yes,  I 
did,  Williams,  because  I've  been  at  it  for  a  year.  But 
it  took  me  months  to  find  out  what  you  did  in  days." 
Williams 's  frown  relaxed,  and  Rock  continued,  ear 
nestly,  "Now,  I  think  the  Virginia  Central  belongs  to 
the  Roanoke — " 

"Or  to  the  Great  Southern,"  Williams  could  not  help 
interjecting. 

"No,  to  the  Roanoke,  because  I  need  the  Roanoke, 
and  the  Roanoke  needs  the  Virginia  Central,  and  the 
Virginia  Central  needs  Walter  Williams,  and  Walter 
Williams  needs  Sampson  Rock.  There's  your  vicious 
circle,  Williams.  As  to  the  report,  do  whatever  you 
think  best." 

Williams  did  so;  in  a  flash,  he  thought  best  to  elimi 
nate  the  valuable  suggestions  because  they  were  too 
valuable  to  be  given  away  gratis  to  people  he  was  un 
der  no  obligations  to,  as  Rock  had  so  truthfully  and 
intelligently  pointed  out.  Walter  Williams  needed 
Sampson  Rock  because  Sampson  Rock  needed  Walter 
Williams;  nevertheless,  Williams  would  try  to  sell  his 
plan  to  the  English.  Rock  was  square  and  unselfish; 
Rock  had  objected  only  to  Walter  Williams  not  making 
money  legitimately. 

"I'll  cut  out  the  suggestions,  Mr.  Rock,"  said  the 
accountant,  decisively. 

His  mind  worked  quickly.  He  would  write  to  the  En 
glishmen  about  the  plan  he  had  evolved  in  connection 
with  the  Virginia  Central,  and  if  they  paid  well  he  would 
unfold  it  to  their  slow  but  enraptured  gaze.  He  could 
go  also  to  the  Great  Southern  people — in  case  Rock  was 

145 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

not  grateful  or  intelligent.  In  either  event  Walter 
Williams  would  profit.  Williams  added,  "But  I  give 
you  fair  warning,  Mr.  Rock,  I'll  offer  to  make  a  sup 
plementary  report  on  what  ought  to  be  done,  if  they 
pay  for  it." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  acquiesced  Rock,  still  con 
cerned  exclusively  with  Walter  Williams's  personal  pros 
perity  and  aware  of  the  leisureliness  of  English  capital 
ists  doing  business  by  mail.  "Get  what  the  thing  is 
worth.  I'll  remember  my  promise  about  the  time  to 
buy  Virginia  Central."  To  show  Williams  that  he  was 
kindly  and  withal  not  imbecile,  he  added:  "You  now 
stand  two  to  one  to  win.  Come  and  see  me  day  after 
to-morrow,  will  you?  About  three  o'clock." 

"Yes.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Rock.  Good-morning, 
sir." 

He  went  out.  He  stood  two  to  one  to  win,  when 
he  bought  Virginia  Central. 

"That  man's  honest,  and  yet — "  Rock  observed, 
thoughtfully  because  of  the  expression  on  Sam's  face. 

"Yes,  alongside  of  Judas  Iscariot.  Would  you  really 
trust  him,  Dad?"  Sam  would  not;  his  face  showed  it. 

"With  every  cent  I  have  in  the  world,"  said  Sampson 
Rock,  with  decision,  because  he  had  seen  Sam's  look — 
"provided  I  had  previously  come  to  a  full  understand 
ing  with  him  and  paid  the  price  he  asked,  convincing 
him  beforehand  that  he  was  not  being  cheated."  He 
turned  to  the  ticker. 

Sam  shook  his  head  and  said,  with  conviction: 

' '  I  can  never  learn  to  read  character  within  hearing 
distance  of  the  ticker."  He  felt  like  kicking  Williams 
out  of  the  room. 

"Yes,  you  will,  if  you  neglect  none  of  the  details. 
Never  look  for  perfection.  No  good  ^man  is  absolutely 

'146 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

good,  but  neither  is  any  man  altogether  bad.  What 
will  insure  personal  loyalty  to  you  in  a  deal  is  not  half 
so  important  to  ascertain  as  what  will  make  it  easy  for 
a  man  to  keep  his  word.  Provide  for  every  contingency. 
Make  your  man  realize  that  the  time  for  gentlemen 
who  are  also  cold-blooded  business  men  to  fix  the  price 
is  at  the  very  beginning,  and  whatever  the  other  side 
may  do  later,  when  compelled  to,  you  are  willing  to  pay 
more  now,  without  compulsion.  You  must  implant 
some  sustaining  influence  in  the  weak  man's  mind 
before  you  turn  him  loose  to  run  across  temptation. 
But  men — study  men,  all  men,  all  the  time.  If  you 
learn  to  know  men  you  need  never  suffer  from  in 
somnia  nor  bother  about  your  bank  account." 

"That's  all  very  well.  But  studying  human  nature 
isn't  a  case  of  learning  Spanish  in  ten  lessons." 

' '  Study  men  as  I  have  studied  them.  Form  no  pre 
conceptions  and  never  run  away  with  the  idea  that  the 
least  important  of  them  is  altogether  unimportant. 
Few  men  are  exempt  from  doubts  and  vacillation,  and 
many  mistake  stubbornness  for  courage.  You  will  dis 
cover  all  this  for  yourself  in  time.  But  remember  al 
ways  that  when  you  wish  to  convince  a  man  you  must 
not  argue  with  yourself  but  with  him;  use  the  argu 
ments  which  your  knowledge  of  him  tells  you  he  him 
self  would  use,  at  night,  in  his  bed,  as  he  thought  over 
the  matter.  If  he  thinks  he  is  listening  to  his  own 
wisdom,  he  is  yours." 

Sam  shook  his  head.  He  didn't  like  tortuous  ways. 
It  was  not  by  indirection  that  automobile  races  were 
won.  His  father  frowned;  then  he  laughed,  for  he  mis 
understood  Sam's  gesture.  "It  will  come  with  time, 
Sammy;  it  '11  come  with  time.  It  is  one  of  the  acquired 
tastes,  this  thing  of  projecting  yourself  into  another's 

147 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

personality.  Never  underestimate  the  importance  of 
the  unimportant,  and  do  everything  thoroughly,  big 
or  little.  You  need  not  cross  the  bridge  till  you  come 
to  it.  But  while  you're  crossing  it  examine  it  carefully, 
because  you  never  can  tell  how  heavy  a  wagon  you  may 
have  to  drive  over  it  some  dark  night." 

Sententious  wisdom  is  usually  impressive.  Sam  did 
not  know  what  to  answer,  so  he  nodded  his  head  twice, 
slowly. 

The  door  opened  and  Valentine  announced: 

"Gilmartin  says  he  must  see  you." 

"Very  well." 

Gilmartin,  still  panting  from  his  running,  said: 

"Mr.  Rock,  Colonel  Robinson  says  Wall  Street  is  full 
of  liars—" 

"That  wasn't  worth  while  telephoning  at  a  dollar  a 
minute,  was  it?" 

Gilmartin  grinned.  "No.  He  was  mad  as  blazes. 
He  said  the  talk  of  a  receivership  is  absurd,  and  that 
he'll  make  it  hot  for—" 

"I  told  you  that." 

"And  he  says  nobody  in  Richmond  is  selling."  Gil- 
martin  looked  inquiringly,  almost  anxiously,  at  Rock. 

Rock  looked  up  from  the  ticker  and  said: 

"What  do  you  expect  him  to  say — that  he  is  selling 
his?" 

"No,"  admitted  Gilmartin.  Of  course  the  Robinson 
crowd  were  selling;  and  of  course,  since  they  were  sell 
ing,  the  stock  would  go  lower;  and  of  course,  if  the 
stock  went  lower — 

Gilmartin  smiled  happily;  the  paper  profit  was  safe. 
Also,  there  would  be  more  of  it. 

"Of  course!"  went  on  Gilmartin,  talking  to  him 
self  as  much  as  to  Rock.  "It's  a  certainty  Rich- 

148 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

mond  was  selling  the  stock  to  beat  the  band  this 
morning." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  Richmond  selling, 
but  I  can  tell  you  this  much — "  Rock  paused. 

"Yes,  sir?"  murmured  Gilmartin,  trying  to  look  con 
cerned  only  with  the  news  value  of  Rock's  words — that 
is,  looking  attentive  rather  than  over-eager. 

"That  whoever  it  was  that  sold  all  that  stock  this 
morning  will  sell  more  before  you  see  the  end  of  it." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Rock?" 

"Where  are  your  eyes,  man?  Doesn't  the  tape  say 
so  as  plainly  as  it  ever  said  anything?" 

"That's  what  I  think,  too,"  agreed  Gilmartin,  cocki- 
ly.  "I  guess  I '11  stand  pat. ' '  He  looked  at  Rock's  face 
to  see  if  he  approved  the  policy  of  masterly  inactivity, 
whereby  the  paper  profits  were  to  grow.  But  Rock 
merely  nodded  from  the  ticker  without  looking  up, 
and  Gilmartin  left,  saying,  "If  I  hear  anything  more, 
shall  I  come  in  and  tell  you?"  It  was  an  insidious  in 
vitation — to  himself. 

"Always  glad  to  see  you,  Gilmartin,  when  I'm  not 
too  busy."  But,  as  Rock's  tone  was  not  unkindly,  the 
reporter  did  not  mind  the  last  words. 

Gilmartin,  on  the  way  to  his  office,  ran  across  two  or 
three  of  his  followers,  who  asked  him  the  same  question 
he  had  asked  Rock.  He  replied  with  much  decision: 
"Cover?  Now?  If  you  have  cold  feet,  why,  then,  the 
best  thing's  to  run.  You've  got  a  profit  ?  Then  take 
it;  you  won't  go  broke  if  you  do  that.  But  all  /  know 
is  that  whoever  is  selling  that  stock  isn't  done  selling 
yet.  I  don't  have  to  be  told  that.  I  can  see  it  on  the 
tape  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face;  and  the  tape's 
good  enough  for  me.  I  am  standing  pat." 

He  could  see  the  words  sinking  in  and  then  spread  in 
149 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

waves  over  the  listeners'  faces.  Of  course,  they  too 
would  stand  pat ;  that  was  the  part  of  wisdom ;  and  be 
cause  Gilmartin  felt  a  sense  of  responsibility  towards 
those  of  his  fellow-men  who  had  followed  his  tip  and 
whose  profits  he  expected  to  share,  he  wrote  and  sent 
out  on  his  slips: 

"President  Robinson,  of  the  Virginia  Central  Rail 
road,  stated  exclusively  to  a  representative  of  the  Wall 
Street  News  Agency  that  neither  himself  nor  any  of  his 
associates  in  the  company  has  sold  any  of  their  holdings. 
He  says  he  knows  of  absolutely  no  reason  why  anybody 
should  sell  Virginia  Central  stock  at  these  prices.  This, 
it  will  be  remembered,  is  the  same  thing  Colonel  Robin 
son  said  some  time  ago,  when  the  stock  was  ten  dollars 
a  share  higher." 

It  was  a  scorpion  paragraph — the  sting  was  in  the 
tail.  Wilfully  or  unconsciously,  the  other  financial  writ 
ers  would  be  influenced  by  it.  The  afternoon  papers, 
lacking  the  time  to  verify  it,  would  do  their  duty — 
that  is,  they  would  rewrite  the  item,  leaving  the  sting 
for  piquancy's  sake.  The  morning  newspaper  men, 
having  leisure,  would  elaborate  —  along  Gilmartin 's 
lines — and  lengthen  the  venomous  tip  of  the  tail.  Rock 
knew  how  financial  news  was  gathered.  That  was  why 
he  allowed  the  red-headed  writer  to  form  impressions 
of  his  own.  When  one  of  his  own  acknowledged  stocks 
was  concerned,  Rock  impartially  told  all  the  financial 
editors  precisely  what  he  wished  them  to  print.  It  was 
always  "inside  information";  nevertheless,  it  was  al 
ways  true.  But  the  Virginia  Central  was  not  yet  his. 
He  was  a  rank  outsider  in  the  eyes  of  the  Street,  and 
he  desired  to  remain  so,  for  publication,  a  few  weeks 
longer. 

As  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  left  the  office  that  day,  the 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

sum  total  of  his  education  was  that  Sampson  Rock, 
Sr.,  was  buying  and  selling  Virginia  Central  in  his 
manipulation,  but  always  buying  a  little  more  than  he 
sold — "accumulating  it  on  the  way  down,"  the  Street 
would  have  called  it.  The  price  would  go  lower — that 
was  certain,  though  not  as  low  as  Sam  in  his  ignorance 
had  at  first  feared.  It  was  plain  to  the  veriest  tyro 
that  a  way  to  make  sure  money  was  to  buy  Virginia 
Central  stock  at  once,  without  waiting  for  the  bottom. 
Not  even  his  father  knew  when  the  bottom  would  be 
reached;  but  that  the  price  would  rise  later  was  as 
certain  as  anything  could  be.  Ten  thousand  shares  at, 
say,  thirty -three.  At  forty -three,  that  would  mean 
$100,000;  at  fifty -three,  $200,000;  at  sixty -three, 
$300,000.  By  the  time  Sampson  Rock  had  fifty-five 
per  cent,  of  the  capital  stock  it  would  be  sixty- three; 
possibly  even  seventy  -  three,  which  would  mean 
$400,000  in  cold  cash.  Money  won  by  Sam,  earned  by 
Sam,  to  do  with  as  he  saw  fit;  to  do  good  work  with; 
to  invest  ungambler  -  like  and  make  more ;  to  give 
away  to  poor  children,  to  cheer  crippled  paupers, 
to  "stake"  deserving  "hard  -  luckers."  Money.  .  .  . 
Knowledge  was  power,  and  power  was  money;  there 
fore  knowledge  was  money.  And  money  was  ten  thou 
sand  things,  good  and  bad.  Eliminating  the  bad,  there 
remained  the  good,  on  which  to  use  the  money.  .  .  . 

Did  the  end  ever  justify  the  means  ?  Was  this  abuse 
of  his  father's  confidence  excusable  ?  Was  it  wrong  to 
anticipate  a  gift?  If  his  father  made  money,  Sam 
could  have  it  for  the  asking;  but  if  Sam  made  it,  he  need 
not  ask;  he  would  have  it  to  use  as  he  saw  fit.  The 
Virginia  Central  stock  that  was  being  dislodged  by 
Sampson  Rock's  ticker-blows  came  from  speculators, 
from  gamblers  who  had  merely  bought  for  a  rise  and 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

knew  the  chances  they  took,  men  who  therefore  de 
served  to  make  money  as  much  as  a  race-track  loser 
deserves  pity  or  a  Monte  Carlo  victim  merits  charity. 
None  of  it  came  from  people  who  depended  on  it  for 
their  bread  and  butter,  for  the  stock  paid  no  dividends, 
yielded  no  income  to  the  holders. 

Robinson's  stock:  that  was  another  matter.  The 
president  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad,  inefficient  as 
a  manager,  might  be  a  well-meaning,  honest  man  who 
might  deserve  consideration.  He  might  take  years 
where  Sampson  Rock  took  weeks,  but  he  need  not  be 
throttled  to  force  him  to  hand  the  reins  to  a  better 
driver.  But  any  Virginia  Central  that  was  bought  now 
would  enable  Sam  to  do  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
time.  All  the  subtleties  of  the  ticker  game  he  might 
not  understand.  But  the  deal  itself  —  to  put  that 
through,  or  help  to  put  it  through,  in  a  straightforward, 
gentlemanly  way,  to  make  a  good  railroad  out  of  a  poor 
one  and  do  it  without  self-reproach — that  was  worth 
doing.  There  were  obstacles,  unseen  but  existent. 
How  to  acquire  the  knowledge  to  see  them  and  to  over 
come  them? 

He  thought  of  nothing  else;  but  the  way  was  not 
clear.  The  fog  was  thick.  But  as  a  refrain  to  his 
thoughts  ran  this:  Money  is  needed;  without  it  all  is 
vain — vain — vain  / 


XI 

SAM  found  that  the  suggestion  to  spend  the  even 
ing  at  the  Collyers'  was  received  without  en 
thusiasm  by  his  father,  but  he  persevered. 

"I  told  them  I'd  surely  bring  you  with  me.  You'd 
better  come  along  quietly.  What  do  you  want  me  to 
do — the  stock-market  from  ten  to  three  down-town  and 
poker  from  ten  to  three  up-town  ?  Let's  be  chums  and 
respectable  instead." 

Sampson  Rock  laughed  good-naturedly.  The  nights 
at  the  club  were  getting  to  be  a  habit.  Now  that  he 
had  his  son  with  him — and  that  the  market  was  going 
his  way — he  would  take  a  night  off  occasionally.  He 
couldn't  expect  to  be  with  Sam  every  night.  He  looked 
at  his  son  and  found  it  gave  him  pleasure. 

"All  right,  partner,"  said  Sampson  Rock,  happily. 
He  drew  in  a  deep  breath.  He  felt  physically  stronger, 
as  if  the  mere  sight  of  his  athletic  boy  had  imparted  the 
vigor  of  youth  to  his  own  body.  He  dismissed  the 
ticker  and  the  railroads  from  his  mind  without  a  pang. 
A  vacation  mood,  restful,  pleasurable,  came  over  him. 
He  joked  as  they  walked  to  the  Collyers'  house,  and  his 
light  -  heartedness,  after  the  strenuous  hours  down 
town,  made  Sam  feel  the  blood-kinship  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  else. 

Mrs.  Collyer  exceeded  Sam's  wildest  expectations. 
In  less  than  ten  minutes  she  took  Sampson  Rock  to  the 

153 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

library,  where  in  the  business-like  pigeonholes  of  a 
dainty  Circassian- walnut  desk,  she  kept  her  "papers." 
Because  she  had  irrepressibly  spoken  about  Roanoke, 
Sam's  mind  was  turned  to  Virginia.  As  soon  as  he  was 
left  alone  with  Fanny  he  said: 

"Fanny,  I've  started."  He  looked  at  her  not  pre 
cisely  expecting  plaudits,  but  conscious  of  distinct 
pleasure  that  hers  was  a  serious  mind  and  a  sympa 
thetic.  It  was  fully  ten  seconds  before  he  rejoiced  also 
in  the  attractive  coloring  of  her  face  and  the  warming 
charm  of  its  smile. 

"You  have?"  she  repeated,  a  trifle  vacantly.  "Oh!" 
she  exclaimed,  understandingly,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
her  eyes  had  suddenly  filled  with  light.  "Have  you, 
Sammy?" 

She  smiled  at  him  with  an  effect  of  acknowledging 
their  joint  ownership  of  some  precious  thing.  It  subtly 
strengthened  their  intimacy,  imparting  to  it  an  element 
of  novelty  that  was  more  than  delightful  to  Sam.  She 
took  the  place  of  his  Other  Self  and  kept  it.  She  was 
his  confidante.  She  was  his  sole  audience.  He  felt  a 
sense  of  aloofness  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  a  widening 
gulf  between  him  and  friends,  acquaintances,  even  his 
father. 

All  this  did  not  seem  sudden  to  him. 

"Yes.  I've  had  long  talks  with  my  father.  I  know 
what  he  is  trying  to  accomplish.  It  is  big  work. 
There's  more  than  money  in  it.  He  is  going  to  get  a 
railroad  which  is  badly  run  and  keeps  back  the  develop 
ment  of  Virginia.  And  he  is  going  to  bring  it  up  to 
date  and  make  it  prosper. ' '  He  was  speaking  judicially. 
She  saw  that. 

"Of  course,"  she  assented.  "I  knew  he  did  those 
things.  I  told  you  he  .did." 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

"  Yes,  you  did,"  he  said,  a  trifle  impatiently,  because 
his  sobriety  of  speech  and  control  of  his  feelings  and 
doubts  had  been  wasted  on  her.  ' '  But  it's  the  way  he 
gets  it  that  I  don't  like." 

"Yes,  but  you  are  no  judge  of  what  is — " 

' '  The  easiest  and  quickest  way  to  it  is  all  that  he  con 
siders.  Anybody  who  gets  in  his  path  is  eliminated  by 
the  quickest  method,  squeal  or  no  squeal.  Now,  what 
I'd  like  to  do  is  to  see  if  it  all  couldn't  be  done  without 
maiming  the  mob.  What's  the  use  of  lying?"  He 
paused,  frowning. 

"Well?"  she  queried.  She  would  hear  the  next 
chapter.  So  far  the  story  lacked  the  flesh  and  bones 
of  detail. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  defensively,  "I'm  going  to  see 
how  it  can  be  done  decently." 

"Is  that  all?"  She  was  a  trifle  disappointed.  There 
was  no  thrill  to  the  denouement.  A  soul-tragedy  is  in 
teresting  enough,  but  she  saw  none  in  Sam's  effort  to 
learn  railroading  and  other  useful  things.  It  nettled 
him  so  that  he  said,  determinedly: 

"No.     I'm  going  to  do  it." 

She  looked  doubtfully  at  him.  His  business  educa 
tion  so  far  could  not  enable  him  to  work  wonders.  Her 
look  brought  him  a  distinct  feeling  of  annoyance.  It 
rang  in  his  voice: 

"Do  you  think  it's  so  easy  to  devise  methods  for 
doing  these  things?  My  dear,  please  remember  that 
I'm  going  to  do  pioneer  work.  That's  what  it  comes 
down  to  —  doing  business  without  lying  when  you 
want  to  get  something.  It  has  all  the  charm  of 
novelty." 

She  smiled,  as  an  old  person  might  smile  at  a  boy's 
original  discovery  of  the  truth  of  some  axiom.  She 

155 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

said,  with  a  kindliness  that  did  not  hide  the  conscious 
ness  of  superior  wisdom  and  age: 

"Lots  of  people  do  that." 

"They  don't  fill  Wall  Street  to  overflowing,"  he  re 
torted. 

"Well,  how  are  you  going  to  do  it?"  There  was 
visible  interest  in  her  question. 

The  way  he  would  like  to  do  it  would  be  by  going  to 
Colonel  Robinson  and  saying,  frankly:  "Look  here, 
you  can't  run  this  railroad.  Let  us  try  and  we'll  pay 
you  more  than  the  stock  is  worth  in  the  open  market." 
But  the  childishness  of  this  was  on  a  par  with  the 
desire  to  grasp  the  moon.  However,  perhaps  Robinson 
was  an  honest  and  truthful  man  with  enough  common- 
sense  to  realize  regretfully,  but  unashamed,  his  own 
shortcomings  as  a  modern  railroad  manager;  in  short, 
he  might  be  a  man  above  personal  vanity.  But  what 
Sam  said  to  her  was:  "I'm  going  down  to  Virginia 
to  look  over  the  field.  My  father  has  so  many  irons 
in  the  fire  that  he  stays  at  home  and  he  fights  here. 
He  uses  the  ticker  and  a  host  of  agents  who  are  all 
practical  business  men,  all  of  them  trained  to  see 
nothing  but  the  dollars  and  cents  to  be  made. 
They  all  make  money  by  doing  as  he  says,  and 
they  think  he  is  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived. 
I'm  going  to  see  the  railroad  and  the  men  who 
now  own  it  and  find  out  whether  they  will  sell 
their  stock  at  a  fair  price  —  more  than  my  father 
would  pay.  As  it  is,  there  will  be  money  in  the 
deal ;  but  it's  the  work  itself  and  not  the  money  that 
interests  me." 

She  did  not  know  what  she  could  intelligently  say. 
She  told  him,  with  a  touch  of  sympathy  rather  close  to 
motherliness: 

136 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

"It's  the  only  way  to  get  experience,  and  that's  what 
you  chiefly  need." 

"You  don't  think  a  man  can  do  business  intelligently 
and  at  the  same  time  like  a  gentleman  unless  he  is  an 
old — "  he  began,  challengingly. 

"Of  course  he  can.  I've  always  assumed  that.  It's 
the  only  way  you  ought  to  do  anything.  What  I  don't 
like  about  you  is  your  attitude.  You've  just  caught  a 
little  glimpse,  and  it  seems  so  hard  and  cruel  that  you 
imagine  you  stand  in  solitary  grandeur  on  a  pedestal  of 
unusual  honesty  and  cleverness.  You  must  hustle — " 

"The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swiftest." 

"Not  always;  not  more  than  ninety-nine  times  out 
of  a  hundred." 

"Well,  just  you  watch  the  hundredth."  He  did  not 
say  it  vaingloriously.  But  for  all  that,  his  confidence 
seemed  boyish  to  her. 

"Are  you  sure  you  won't  upset  any  plan  of  Uncle — " 

"No.  I  ought  to  help  him,  instead.  And  I'm  going 
to  study  railroading — the  practical  end  of  it — and  then 
I '11  know  what  to  do  in  New  York.  But — "  He  paused. 

"Yes?" 

"It's  the  money." 

"Do  you  mean — " 

"I  mean,  not  having  it,  not  having  enough  to  be 
independent  of  everybody.  Fanny,  it  isn't  hard  to 
make  money.  Anybody  can  make  it." 

"You've  never  made  any." 

"  I  never  had  to.  If  I  merely  wished  to  make  money, 
I  could  make  a  heap  now." 

"How?" 

"In  the  stock-market." 

"You  think  so,  Sammy."  She  smiled.  "But  gam 
bling  isn't — " 

157 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF   WALL   STREET 

"Betting  on  a  sure  thing  isn't  gambling;  it's  plain 
business.  There's  half  a  million  lying  there  waiting 
to  be  picked  up."  He  saw  the  picking-up  process;  it 
was  like  falling  off  a  log,  for  difficulty. 

She  smiled  incredulously.  It  was  too  easy.  Sam, 
who  knew  nothing  about  business,  make  money  like 
that! 

Her  scepticism  made  him  say,  seriously: 

"If  I  don't,  my  father  will.     It's  part  of  the  deal." 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you  make  it,  and  then  do 
something — " 

"There's  this  about  it:  I  don't  know  whether  it's 
fair  to  my  father  to  take  advantage  of  what  he  has 
told  me  in  confidence.  He  told  me  because  he  wanted 
me  to  understand  this  deal  from  A  to  Z.  Now,  if  I 
start  on  my  own  hook  to  make  money  out  of  his 
information — " 

"Would  it  make  him  lose  ?"  There  was,  in  the  tone 
of  her  query,  a  desire  to  hear  a  negative  answer. 

"No.  It  merely  would  reduce  his  profit  by  exactly 
as  much  as  I  made.  I  would  simply  be  taking  ad 
vantage  of  what  he  is  doing.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
my  dear  girl,  it's  perfectly  plain  that  whatever  he  makes 
out  of  this  will  come  to  me  some  day,  in  some  shape  or 
other,  and — " 

She  frowned,  and  was  about  to  speak  when  he  went 
on,  with  a  smile: 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  poisoning  him  to  inherit  his 
money.  What  I  mean  is  that  I'm  sure  he'd  never  give 
me  a  half -million  to  experiment  with — " 

"Certainly  not,"  she  said,  with  conviction. 

"But  if  I  made  it  myself  and  I  did  what  I  wanted 
with  it—" 

"You'd  lose  it." 

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SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Very  well.  What  of  it?  Think  of  the  educational 
value  of  the  loss.  It  would  be  cheap  if  I  found  out 
there  was  no  use  in  my  trying  to  go  to  work." 

"You'll  have  to  do  something,  anyhow,  whether 
it's  what  you  like  or  not.  You  are  so  wise,  Sammy, 
and  so  old  that — 

He  was  not  offended.     He  explained,  very  patiently. 

"I  think  men  in  Wall  Street  are  so  accustomed  to 
using  certain  tools  that  they  never  think  there  are 
others  that  can  be  used." 

"It  is  barely  possible  that  they  are  guided  by  expe 
rience,"  she  suggested,  with  mild  sarcasm. 

"Why,  my  dear  girl,  whenever  my  father  wants  men 
to  guess  the  wrong  thing,  he  merely  tells  them  the 
truth." 

"Then  he  can't  be  the  monster  you — " 

"It  isn't  monstrous  to  tell  the  truth  with  intent  to 
deceive ;  but  what  I  object  to  is  the  callousness  to  the 
suffering  of  the  people  who  can't  get  the  results  others 
think  they  should." 

"Sam,  I  want  you  to  do  something  because  it's  a 
man's  duty  to  do  it,  and  it  should  be  a  pleasure.  But 
indiscriminate  charity — ' 

"Should  begin  at  home.  I  know  all  that.  I  read  it 
in  a  copy-book  once.  But  I  want  to  do  something 
that  won't  make  me  think  of  myself  as  a  money-maker 
so  much  as  a — well,  I  want  to  do  useful  work.  I  must 
have  money  to  do  it  with,  not  my  father's  money,  but 
my  own,  so  that  if  I  lose  it  I've  only  myself  to  blame. 
If  I  buy  this  stock,  that  I  know  he  is  going  to  put  up — " 

"Don't  tell  mother  what  it  is.  If  Uncle  Sampson 
won't  lose  anything  by  it  and  you  don't  interfere  with 
his  plans,  I  think  you  ought  to.  You've  got  your  mind 
in  a  rut,  and  anything  that  will  take  it  out  will  be  good 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

for  you.  It  isn't  the  money,  anyhow;  it's  doing  some 
thing.  If  you  give  me  more  particulars,  I  might  be 
able  to  judge  better." 

"The  case  is  as  I  put  it  to  you.  I  think,  after  it  was 
all  over  and  I  told  him  what  I  had  done,  he'd  laugh. 
The  particulars  wouldn't  help  you  to  judge." 

As  he  said  this,  she  pouted — at  the  thought  of  the 
unshared  secret,  he  supposed.  Instantly,  business 
thoughts  were  driven  out  of  his  mind  and  he  saw  her, 
not  as  the  inspiration,  but  as  the  only  companion  of 
his  life.  She  was  good  to  look  upon — her  eyes,  her 
cheeks,  the  chin,  the  throat.  .  .  .  She  exhaled  good 
health  and  a  sympathy  so  distinctly  personal,  an  in 
terest  in  him  so  obviously  keen,  that  it  was  as  though 
a  subtle  perfume  had  been  wafted  from  her  to  him. 
Curious  ideas  began  to  intrude,  thoughts  of  divers  hues 
and  of  varying  degrees  of  incoherency.  He  felt  that 
without  her  he  was  desperately  alone;  with  hei  near 
by,  there  were  many  personalities  within  him,  all  of 
them  voluble.  .  .  .  Her  perfect  lips  were  red  and  the 
rounded  throat  was  white;  and  the  eyes  like  luminous 
sapphires  said  wonderful  things,  and  he  felt  that  his 
eyes  replied.  She  became  less  a  thing  of  flesh  and 
blood  than  a  radiant  vis'on,  merely  to  look  at  whom 
made  the  blood  flow  faster  and  warmer  and  the 
thoughts  come  more  quickly,  something  of  the  effect 
of  champagne.  Within  him  it  was  as  though  his  very 
soul  was  in  a  tremor. 

"Fanny"  —  he  tried  to  smile  easily  as  he  spoke — 
"I'm  mighty  glad  I  went  away.  It's  only  now  that  I 
am  beginning  to  realize  how  much  you  mean  to  me." 

"How  much  is  that?"  She  was  unconscious  of  her 
own  divine  metamorphosis  before  him. 

"Don't  do  it  again,  Fanny!  ...  I'm  afraid  of  boring 
1 60 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

you,  talking  of  myself,  and  there  are  so  many  things 
I  want  to  talk  over  with  you  that  I  can't  say  to  any 
body  else.  I'd  feel  so  lonesome,  if  I  didn't  have  you 
to  talk  to,  that  I  guess  I'd—"  He  ceased  to  talk. 
He  was  thinking  of  so  many  things  he  was  not  saying 
that  it  seemed  useless  to  continue  to  make  sounds. 

"Well,  dear  boy,"  she  said,  encouragingly,  "I  can 
stand  it.  You  know  I'll  listen  with  interest.  I  expect 
you  to  tell  me."  She  looked  at  him.  Whatever  it  was 
she  saw  made  her  look  away  uneasily. 

"I'd  like  to — ah — talk  to  you  forever."  He  spoke 
almost  through  his  clenched  teeth.  Then  there  came 
to  him  the  vision  of  their  past  life  and  the  relation 
ship  as  of  brother  and  sister.  It  had  a  disagreeable 
effect. 

"Forever  is  a  long  time."  She  spoke  lightly.  She 
did  not  look  at  him,  but  he  looked  at  her — at  a  beau 
tiful  woman,  young,  and  very  near  to  a  young  and 
healthy  man.  He  said: 

"It  would  seem  a  minute  to  me." 

"Oh,  bosh!"  She  laughed,  frankly.  "Do  you  love 
to  talk  that  much?" 

"Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  I — " 

"No,  it  never  did.  And  you  mustn't  be  silly,"  she 
interjected  quickly.  Also  she  looked  at  him  with  a 
stern  displeasure. 

"Well,  you  have  no  business  to  look  so — "  He 
paused.  The  sight  of  her  intoxicated  him.  He  saw 
her  face  like  a  flower  seen  through  a  mist.  There 
came  to  him  a  faint  odor  as  of  violets,  so  delicately 
evanescent  that  only  at  times  he  breathed  it.  ...  He 
could  not  live  without  Fanny — this  girl  who  was  the 
only  living  being  before  whom  he  felt  absolutely  no 
sense  of  reticence.  The  book  of  his  soul  gladly  opened 

161 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

itself  before  her  eyes,  for  her  to  read  everything.     This 
feeling  rose  in  him  like  a  surge.  .  .  . 

"Be  serious,  Sam,"  she  said,  rebukingly. 

"Serious?"  he  echoed,  conscious  of  an  effort  to  con 
trol  his  voice.  "What  can  be  more  serious  than — than 
what  you  will  help  me  to  do  ?  Nothing  is  more  serious. " 

"Less  talk  and  more  work — "  she  began,  admon- 
itorily. 

"I'll  work  hard  enough,"  he  said,  "if  it  will  please 
you—" 

"Of  course,  it  will  please  me  to  see  you  do  something 
else  than  trying  for  automobile  records." 

"That's  why  I'll  work."     Sincerity  rang  in  his  voice. 

"No,  Sam,"  she  said,  with  much  positiveness,  "you'll 
work  because  it  is  your  duty  to — " 

"Oh  yes,"  he  nodded  twice,  quickly,  "to  do  some 
thing  to  make  you  feel  proud  of  me." 

"To  make  us  all  feel  proud  of  you,  especially  your 
father." 

She  spoke  as  a  loving  mother  to  a  headstrong 
youngster. 

"My  father  does  not  need  me,  but  I  need  you." 

"What  ails  you,  child?"  she  asked,  in  mock  alarm. 
There  was  a  shadow  of  uneasiness  in  her  eyes.  It  was 
the  worst  question  she  could  have  asked  him.  There 
was  but  one  truthful  answer. 

"  You!  I  can't  help  it,  Fanny,"  he  said,  very  deter 
minedly,  looking  at  her  thirstily,  hungrily,  his  very 
soul  in  his  eager  eyes.  "Ever  since  I  came  back  I've 
realized  it,  and  you  might  as  well  know  it  now  as  ever. 
Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  I — that  I — "  He 
floundered  helplessly.  She  arose  and  said: 

"What  occurs  to  me  is  that  it  is  positive  cruelty  to 
let  mamma  talk  Uncle  Sampson  to  death." 

162 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Let  her  be,"  he  retorted,  fiercely.  The  more  he 
looked  at  Fanny,  the  more  he  wanted  her,  all  of  her, 
for  himself  exclusively.  To  be  alone  with  her  on  a 
desert  island,  that  was  heaven.  He  was  certain  of  it. 
"Sit  down  and  let  me  tell  you  something.  You  are 
the  only  soul  in  this  world  that  means  anything  to  me, 
and  you  know  it.  And  I  want  you  to  be  the  only  one 
as  long  as  I  live.  Oh,  my  dear,  I've  known  you  all  my 
life,  and  only  now,  when  I  want  to  become  something 
in  this  world,  only  now  I  realize  how  much  you  mean 
to  me." 

"Oh,  Sammy,"  she  said,  tearfully,  "let  me — "  She 
felt  like,  an  older  sister  before  a  sophomore  brother  who 
has  just  come  home — at  2.30  A.M. — and  she  has  opened 
the  door  for  him  because  he  tried  for  an  hour  and  found 
the  key-hole  elusive. 

"No,"  he  said,  "you  must  help  me,  and  the  only  way 
is  by  marrying  me.  Then  I'll  have  you  to  myself. 
Why  not?  I've  always  loved  you,  all  my  life,  and — " 

"Not — not  in  that  way."     Her  distress  was  evident. 

"Dear  girl,  we  were  too  young.  It  surprises  you 
now,  but  you'll  understand  it  if — if — you'll  think  a 
little  and  see  how  natural  it  is  and  how  nice  it  is  that 
it's  natural.  Listen:  I'm  going — " 

A  sweetheart  was  not  before  her.  It  was  only  Sam, 
her  brother.  And  yet  she  was  conscious  that  her  life 
habit  of  him  was  gone,  plucked  roots  and  all.  Sam 
couldn't  love  her — that  way — and  yet  Sam  said  he 
did,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  did,  and  it  might  be  that 
he  really  did,  and,  therefore,  Sam  was  changing  before 
her  very  eyes.  Already  it  was  a  different  Sam  who 
stood  there.  .  .  She  took  more  interest  in  Sam  than  in 
any  other  man,  having  no  brothers.  He  always  had 
belonged  to  her;  there  existed  between  them  perfect 

163 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

frankness.  He  could  never  be  as  a  stranger,  but  she 
could  not  see  him  in  this  new  character.  .  .  .  Not 
yet.  .  .  . 

Out  of  the  tangled  odds  and  ends  of  thoughts  that 
seethed  in  her  disturbed  mind,  one  resolve  rose  above 
everything  else:  Sam  must  become  a  man,  a  useful 
man,  a  man  the  world  would  respect;  and  she  must 
help  him.  It  was  her  duty  to  him  and  to  herself;  she 
saw  that  very  clearly.  The  readjustment  of  their  rela 
tions,  the  final  decision  as  to  what  they  were  to  be  to 
each  other  during  the  life  that  was  before  them — that 
could  wait.  Let  him  first  become  a  man  with  definite 
ideals  and  an  object  in  life,  a  man  with  a  career.  In 
the  mean  time  his  hopes  could  wait.  Being  a  woman, 
she  laid  them  on  the  top  shelf  of  her  soul-cupboard  and 
locked  the  door. 

The  face  she  turned  to  him  was  calm  and  resolute. 
It  was  evident  to  him  that  she  took  him  seriously. 
This  brought  with  it  hopes — and  fears. 

' '  Sam, ' '  she  said  to  him,  a  trifle  sternly.  ' '  Of  course , 
I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  you  talk  like  this." 

"You  don't  under—" 

"It  isn't  a  matter  of  what  I  do  or  don't.  You 
haven't  any  right  to — even  think  of  such  things." 

"Certainly,  I  have.     How  can  I  help — " 

"If  you  were  not  a  boy,  you  would  have  helped — " 

"My  dear,  I'm  twenty-five,  and  I  know  I  love — " 

"Don't  talk  of  love  to  me,"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of 
fierce  impatience.  "Do  you  think  I'm  a  silly  little — " 

"No;  I  know  you  are  the — " 

"Let  me  speak.     You've  been  away  two  years — " 

"Wasted,  utterly  wasted!" 

She  checked  his  speech  with  a  frown.  "It's  about 
time  you  began — " 

164 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

"It  is,"  he  agreed,  promptly.     "Therefore,  I — " 
"You'd  better  acquire  common-sense." 
"The  most  sensible  thing  I  ever  did  in  my  life  was — " 
"You  don't  know  your  own  mind  two   minutes  in 
succession." 

"I  know  that  I — "  he  began,  eagerly,  anxious  to 
prove  her  in  error. 

' '  You  don ' t , "  she  contradicted ,  vehemently.  In  her 
anger  she  seemed  to  him  a  goddess  whose  every  look 
and  every  gesture  was  an  inspiration  to  something 
noble — for  her  sake,  for  her  sake  alone.  So  thinking, 
he  said: 

"I'll  make  you  love  me.  I'll—" 
' '  Do  it. ' '  In  her  challenge  he  did  not — as  she  intend 
ed  he  should — detect  the  command  to  do  something  to 
deserve  her,  to  compel  her  to  love  him  by  sheer  force  of 
great  deeds.  Nevertheless,  he  rose  impetuously.  She 
pointed  to  his  chair  so  resolutely  that  he  obeyed  her 
rigid  finger:  he  sat  down. 

"What  right  have  you  to  ask  anybody  to  marry 
you?  What  have  you  ever  done  to — " 

"I've  never  asked  anybody.  It's  only  now  that  I've 
asked  you." 

"Don't  do  it  again,  Sam,  or  I'll  never — " 
"Yes,  you  will,"  he  did  not  let  her  finish  her  threat. 
"You  will,  because — " 

"First  show  that  you  have  brains  enough  to — " 
"Fanny,"  eagerly,  "if  I  do,  if  I  do,  will  you—"     He 
rose.     He  saw  himself  accomplishing  great  things — all 
for  the  love  of  her,  for  her  sake  alone. 

"Don't  think  of  me  at  all.     Sit  down  here  and — " 
"No,    I    won't."     He    took    a    step    towards    her. 
"Fanny,  don't  you  care  a  little  bit  for  me?" 
"No." 

165 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"Is  there  somebody — " 

"No;  there's  nobody.  You  know  I'm  fond  of  you 
and  I  don't  want  you  to — " 

"How  can  I  help  it?"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  ex 
asperation.  "How  can  I?  I'm  only  human.  I've 
always  loved  you,  ever  since  I  was  a  kid.  Don't  you 
remember  that  time  we  were  engaged  to  be  married 
and—" 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  said,  quickly.  "And  besides,  I 
was  only  seven  and  you  were  twelve.  And  you  don't 
act  one  day  older  now." 

"I'd  like  to  act  as  I  did  then."  His  voice  grew 
husky  for  the  dryness  of  his  throat.  "I — there  is 
nothing  I  wouldn't  do — if — if  only  you — "  He  was 
approaching  her.  His  eyes  were  moist  and  he  breathed 
quickly.  He  loved  her — this  man  who  was  Sam  and 
wasn't  Sam — and  she  saw  it.  She  put  up  her  arm  in 
stinctively,  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"You — frighten  me,  Sam,"  she  said,  tremulously. 

"Forgive  me,  dear  girl,"  he  said,  quickly.  He  walk 
ed  back  to  his  chair  and  sat  down.  He  drew  in  a  deep 
breath  and  avoided  looking  at  her.  At  length  he  said, 
very  quietly: 

"Listen,  dear.  I  do  love  you,  very,  very  much.  It 
was  only  when  I  began  to  think  seriously  of  my  life, 
and  I  looked  years  and  years  ahead,  that  I  realized 
how  much  I  needed  you.  I  can't  tell  you  how  much 
that  is.  It — it  rather  overwhelms  me  when  I  think 
of  it.  I  can't  bear  the  thought  that  perhaps  I  may  not 
have  you  always  with  me  and  tell  you  everything,  and 
work  for  you  and — and  have  you  help  me  to  make 
good.  This  seems  sudden  to  you,  but  it  really  isn't. 
I  know  you'll  never  love  me  as  much  as  I  love  you.  It 
will  come  harder  to  you  to  love  me  like  that.  But  I 

166 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

wouldn't  marry  you  if  you  only  loved  me  like  a  brother. 
Believe  me,  Fanny,  I  am  going  to  do  something,  to 
give  me  the  right  to  ask  you.  I'll  work  for  you,  and  if, 
after  all,  you — you  can't,  why,  I'll  keep  on  loving  you 
just  the  same.  And,"  he  finished  in  a  low  voice,  "I 
won't  frighten  you  again.  Forgive  me,  dear.  But  if 
you  only  knew — " 

"That's — that's — "  she  stammered.  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  tears.  Her  soul  was  thrilled  less  by  his  words 
than  by  his  voice  and  his  attitude.  A  great  tender 
ness  came  over  her  and  with  it  a  wish  to  protect  him, 
motherwise.  She  said:  "That's  the  way  I  like  to 
hear  you  talk.  But,  oh,  Sammy,  why  did  you — " 

"I  always  did,"  he  said,  very  quietly;  "but  I  didn't 
know  it." 

She  waited  for  him  to  say  more,  but  he  was  silent. 

"But,  Sam,  now  you  must  do  something  to  show  you 
are  not  merely  your  father's  son.  Don't  you  know? 
I  was  so  encouraged  by  what  you  said — " 

"About  going  to  Virginia?  I'm  going.  I'm  going 
to  make  money  and  I'm  going  to  do  something  useful. 
I'm  going  to  earn  the  right  to  ask  you  to  love  me." 
He  would  make  money  in  the  stock-market,  to  have 
it  in  order  to  do  better  things.  And  then  he  would 
come  back  to  Fanny.  .  .  . 

"And  you  won't  talk — about  other  things  until 
you—" 

"Until  I  make  good?     I  promise.     But  if  I  do — " 

"If  you  do  what,  Sam?"  asked  Mrs.  Colly er,  benig 
nant  ly,  from  the  door.  "Put  up  Roanoke?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam. 

"I  wish  you'd  lose  no  time,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  gayly. 
Sampson  Rock  had  encouraged  her  to  overflowing. 

"I  will,   Aunt  Marie.     I'm  now  working  as  head 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

office-boy,  but  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  market.  What 
will  you  give  me  if  I  make  Roanoke  sell  at  par?" 

"Something  very  nice,"  smiled  Mrs.  Collyer.  She 
began  to  count. 

"You  are  on!     You  heard  her,  Fanny?" 

"Make  good  first;  then  talk  about  it,"  she  answered, 
lightly — for  effect  on  the  others.  She  did  not  wish 
them  to  know  what  had  happened. 

"Cash  on  delivery,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer  with  a  tech 
nical  look,  thinking  it  was  a  Wall  Street  expression. 

"That's  the  best  way  to  do  business,  after  all,"  said 
Sam  with  decision.  "You  were  right,  Fanny." 


XII 

SAM  had  been  studying  Darrell  from  memory  dur 
ing  the  last  two  days,  recalling  their  joint  ex 
periences  and  their  talks,  analyzing  his  impressions  of 
the  Denver  man.  Little  things  to  which  he  had  at 
tached  no  importance  at  the  time  came  back  to  him, 
and  became  illuminative  clews  to  Darrell's  character, 
until  he  was  certain  that  Darrell  was  an  intelligent  chap, 
who  had  been  in  deals  and  knew  people  and  business, 
and,  moreover,  was  a  man  to  be  trusted.  They  had 
been  very  friendly,  taking  to  each  other  from  the  first. 
They  had  not  called  one  another  by  their  first  names, 
but  they  were,  he  felt,  intimate  enough  to  do  it  in  the 
future.  Sam  had  put  up  Darrell  at  the  club,  but  had 
seen  him  only  once  since  their  arrival  in  New  York. 
Now  that  he  was  about  to  earn  Fanny's  love,  he  had 
no  time  to  lose.  The  first  thing  he  did  in  the  morning 
was  to  write  Darrell  to  dine  with  him. 

That  evening,  as  they  sat  over  their  cocktails  at  the 
club,  Sam  asked,  abruptly:  "I  say,  Darrell,  how  are 
you  fixed  financially?" 

The  Westerner  looked  slightly  surprised — the  change 
of  conversational  topics  had  been  sudden.  He  was  a 
tall,  square-shouldered,  athletic-looking  fellow  of  forty, 
whose  face  told  of  an  out-door  life  and  who  wore  good 
clothes  well.  His  hair  was  very  fair  and  his  eyes  were 
blue  and  alert,  calmly  confident,  the  eyes  of  a  man  who 

169 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

was  quick-witted  but  not  excitable.  There  was  that 
about  him  which  conveyed  an  impression  of  habitual 
self-control  over  features  and  feelings  without  any 
tinge  of  cold-bloodedness.  It  required  little  discern 
ment  to  know  that  he  probably  meant  what  he  said, 
just  as  it  did  not  take  a  very  vivid  imagination  to  feel 
that  he  would  be  a  good  man  to  have  with  you  in  a 
fight  against  odds.  He  had  also  the  Western  manner — 
life  was  too  short  to  beat  about  the  bush  all  the 
time. 

"How  do  you  mean?  I've  saved  something  out  of 
the  wreck.  But  alongside  of  the  steel  millionaires  I'm 
in  the  thirty-cent  class." 

"You  told  me  about  some  of  your  deals.  I've  got  a 
big  one  myself  now."  Sam  spoke  with  a  sort  of  re 
strained  eagerness. 

"I  could  scrape  up  a  few  cents,"  smiled  Darrell. 
"What's  the  deal,  Colonel?" 

"You  know  my  father  does  things  in  the  stock- 
market  now  and  then." 

"So  I've  heard,"  drawled  Darrell. 

Sam  looked  steadily  at  Darrell  and  said:  "See  here, 
Darrell,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something,  and  I'm  going 
to  tell  it  to  you  because  I  like  you,  and  because  I  think 
you  have  brains  and  experience,  and  I  need  somebody 
that  has  more  of  those  things  than  I.  Because  I  hap 
pen  to  be  Sampson  Rock's  son,  I've  found  ways  of 
making  money.  I'll  wait  until  that  sinks  in." 

"Rock,"  said  Darrell,  "there's  no  need  to  spar  for 
an  opening.  Life  is  too  short.  I  like  you,  too,  and  if 
I  had  you  out  West  with  me  a  year,  by  jinks,  I'd  make 
a — "  He  paused. 

"A  man  of  me;  I  know.  That's  the  West,"  laughed 
Sam.  "Well,  I've  got  to  do  the  making  myself,  right 

170 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

here  and  now.  But  you  can  help  me.  Must  you  go 
West  very  soon?" 

"No,  I  don't  have  to;  but  I've  loafed  long  enough. 
There  is  always  something  to  do  in  my  line.  I'm 
considering  several  things.  But  they  could  wait." 

"I'll  begin,"  said  Sam,  "by  calling  you  Jack.  My 
name  is  Sam." 

Darrell  extended  his  hand  and  Sam  shook  it  cord 
ially.  The  handshake  cemented  their  friendship. 
Sam  felt  instinctively  that  Darrell  thought  the  same; 
which  was  true  enough. 

"My  father,"  said  Sam,  now  calm  and  confident,  "is 
buying  the  control  of  a  certain  railroad.  But  first  let 
me  go  back  and  tell  you  this:  He  and  I  had  some 
words  the  other  day."  Darrell  frowned.  Sam  held  up 
a  warning  finger — against  hasty  judgments — and  went 
on:  "He  thought  it  was  time  I  did  something — work 
of  some  kind.  I  suggested  going  into  some  mining 
deals  with  you,  like  those  we  had  talked  over  on  the 
steamer,  but  he  wanted  me  to  go  into  his  own  business. 
I  didn't  like  it,  because  it  didn't  seem  a  square  sort 
of  a  game.  You  see,  my  father  deals  in  pretty  big 
things." 

"From  what  I  hear,  he  is  a  great  man.  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  I've  inquired  about  him.  I've  a 
friend  in  Wall  Street,  and  he  says  your  father's  the  ablest 
and  the  clearest-headed  man  of  all  the  big  guns.  By 
the  way,  my  friend  thinks  that  Roanoke  is  going  to  sell 
at  par  one  of  these  days  and  stay  there.  He  wanted  me 
to  buy  some."  He  looked  inquiringly  at  Sfrni.  But 
Sam  said: 

"What  I  want  to  do  is  to  go  after  the  same  thing  the 
Old  Man  wants  and  get  it  without  having  to  lie  about 
it."  Sam  hesitated.  Then,  being  full  of  the  one  sub- 
«  171 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

ject,  he  blurted:  "The  fact  is,  my  girl  won't  have  me 
unless  I  stop  being  my  father's  son." 

Darrell  laughed.     Sam  went  on  earnestly: 

"She's  the  only  girl  I  ever  met  who  wanted  me  to 
work." 

"She's  a  brick,"  said  Darrell,  with  conviction.  "I 
hope  she's  poor  and — " 

"She's  not  very  rich;  but  she  is  a  brick  just  the 
same."  Sam  was  grateful  to  Darrell  and  grateful  to 
Fanny.  "Now,  I  know  how  I  can  make  money.  But 
I  want  also  to  do  something  which  my  father  says  he 
can't  do.  I  don't  know  how  I'll  do  it,  but  I've  got 
to  do  it." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Here's  my  trouble:  I  don't  want  my  father  to  know 
what  I'm  doing.  That  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  get 
my  money  from  somebody  else." 

"How much  will  you  need?"  asked  Darrell,  curiously. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  Of  course,  I've  some  money  of 
my  own.  I  have  a  million  in  government  bonds  that 
my  mother  left  me,  and  I  own  the  house  we  live  in.  It 
was  hers.  She  left  everything  to  me.  The  house  is 
worth  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
I  guess.  It's  appraised  for  nearly  that.  The  bonds 
are  'way  above  par,  so  that,  all  told,  I've  got  about  a 
million  and  a  half." 

"And  you  need  more?"  Darrell's  eyes  gleamed  ad 
miringly.  This  boy  was  either  a  chip  of  the  old  block 
or  an  ass.  The  alternative  that  the  boy's  inexperience 
suggested  made  the  Westerner  watch  Sam  closely  as  he 
went  on: 

"Maybe,  before  I'm  done;  but  not  now.  I  know  if 
I  asked  my  father  for  the  bonds,  or  if  I  mortgaged  the 
house,  he'd  ask  questions.  I  can't  calmly  tell  him  I'm 

172 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

going  to  take  advantage  of  all  he's  told  me  in  his  wild 
desire  to  teach  me  his  business.  Therefore,  I've  got  to 
borrow  the  money.  I'm  good  for  it,  whether  I  win  out 
or  not.  But  this  is  safe.  I  know  what  is  going  on  and 
what  is  going  to  happen.  I'll  tell  you,  but  you  must 
not  tell—" 

"Rock,  you  can  tell  me  or  not  as  you  see  fit.  But 
put  this  in  your  pipe,  whatever  you  tell  me  goes  no 
further."  He  meant  it.  Sam  saw  that. 

"The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  a  broker  we  can  trust. 
As  Sampson  Rock's  son,  I  can't  very  well  look  for  one. 
But  you  can.  He  must  be  a  reliable  man.  The  ac 
count  may  have  to  stand  in  your  name.  It's  a  lot  to 
ask,  but  think  about  it.  Take  your  time  and — " 

"I've  got  the  man,"  interrupted  Darrell.  "He's  a 
second  cousin  of  mine,  Albert  Sydney,  of  Sydney  &  Co. 
He's  the  man  I  asked  about  your  father." 

"He'd  suspect  the  governor — " 

"He  doesn't  know  your  father  personally." 

"Sure?" 

"Absolutely.  I  trade  through  him  myself,  at  times. 
He's  our  man,  I  tell  you.  You  can  ask  about  him." 

"Very  well.  Now,  how  to  raise  the  money?  I've 
got  the  bonds,  but  I  can't  put  them  up  as  collateral, 
and—" 

"No;  you  can't.  But  if  you  own  your  own  house, 
why  not  take  out  a  mortgage  for  one  hundred  or  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  and  don't  have  it 
recorded?" 

"Who '11  lend  me  that?" 

"I  will,"  answered  Darrell.  He  hesitated.  Then 
he  said:  "Oh,  hang  it,  you're  all  right!"  Sam  could 
see  that  the  hesitation  was  not  from  distrust,  but  be 
cause  of  a  man's  shyness  about  confessing  affection. 

173 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Sam  rose,  and  Darrell  did  likewise,  each  extending  the 
right  hand.  Then  Darrell  laughed:  "Say,  we'll  talk 
about  the  deal  later.  Tell  me  about  the  girl.  Do  you 
really  and  truly — " 

"I  really  and  truly,"  said  Sam.  He  pictured  to  him 
self  Fanny  exhorting  him  to  become  "something."  He 
added,  with  profound  conviction,  "I've  got  to  make 
good." 

"And  I'll  make  it  my  business  to  see  that  you  do. 
What  a  lucky  dog  you  are,  Rock!" 

"Call  me  Sam.  Yes;  I'm  the  hero  of  the  novel.  I 
never  thought  such  things  happened  in  real  life — " 

"Is  she  light  or  dark?" 

"Light.  Now,  if  I  begin  by  buying  five  thousand 
shares — " 

"Holy  Moses!  What  a  lucky  cuss!"  Darrell  sighed. 
He  was  a  mining  -  engineer,  always  on  the  go,  as  an 
expert  going  to  Mexico,  to  Oregon,  to  Bolivia,  to 
Alaska;  as  a  promoter  to  London  or  to  New  York; 
never  remaining  in  one  place  longer  than  three  months ; 
a  man  with  a  princely  income  and  a  victim  of  his  own 
ability,  that  made  his  friends  implore  him  to  examine 
mines  and  join  syndicates;  and  all  the  time  frantic  at 
the  mere  thought  of  a  home  and  a  wife  who  called 
him  "Jack,  dear  ";  imagining,  with  despairing  raptures, 
children  calling  him  "Dad";  afraid  of  all  women,  not 
because  of  gancherie,  but  because  he  feared  not  to  find 
Her  among  them;  and  yet  ready,  eager,  to  believe  the 
one  he  was  talking  to  was  She.  He  had  thought  about 
Her  so  long  that  She  lived,  somewhere.  Beyond  ques 
tion,  Sam's  girl  was  the  one  he  had  been  looking  for 
these  many  years.  Darrell  was  in  love  with  love,  and 
he  reverenced  marriage  as  an  institution,  because  it 
represented  the  joys  he  had  felt  in  his  waking  dreams. 

174 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF   WALL  STREET 

His  heaven  was  domesticity.  He  shook  his  head.  Then 
he  asked,  eagerly: 

"Say,  Sam,  has  she  a  sister  ?"  Sam's  girl's  sister  was 
beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  the  girl  he  sought.  He 
was  all  but  ready  to  propose  instant  marriage  by 
telephone,  sight  unseen. 

"No,"  answered  Sam,  carelessly.     "Why ?" 

"Oh,  nothing."  Darrell's  face  lost  its  eager  look. 
He  frowned  pensively. 

At  dinner  Sam  unfolded  his  plans. 

"I'm  going  to  buy  a  few  thousand  shares  of  the  rail 
road  stock  my  father's  after.  That's  why  I  am  so 
careful  about  the  broker.  The  slightest  suspicion — " 

"My  boy,  I  appreciate  your  confidence  in  me,  but 
I  tell  you  that  you  are  taking  bigger  chances  than  you 
ought." 

"If  I've  made  a  mistake  in  trusting  you,  what's  the 
use  of  doing  business  with  anybody?" 

"That's  all  right,  but—" 

"I'm  betting  on  you  and  on  your  judgment  of  your 
broker.  That  little  purchase  of  stock  is  to  make 
enough  money  to  pay  for  something  else.  If  my 
father  gets  the  road,  he'll  improve  it.  There  are 
valuable  coal  and  iron  properties  along  the  line  that 
as  soon  as  there  are  good  railroad  facilities — " 

Darrell  hastily  swallowed  an  oyster,  and  interjected: 

"I  see!  Next!"  In  the  interruption  Sam  perceived 
Darrell's  intelligent  approval.  This  gave  him  confi 
dence,  and  he  was  grateful  to  his  friend. 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  see  them  with  me  so  you  can 
tell  me  how  much  I  can  pay  for  them.  If  I  don't  buy 
them,  my  father  will.  He's  planned  to  form  a  big  de 
velopment  company,  with  the  bonds  guaranteed  by  the 
railroad — " 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"I'm  on.     Go  ahead." 

"If  you  say  buy,  I  buy.  See?  I  assume  your 
knowledge  of  all  kinds  of  mines  is — " 

"Absolutely." 

"On  that  deal,  if  you  wish,  we  share  and  share  alike. 
Will  you—" 

"With  both  feet,  Sammy  boy,  unless  the  owners  are 
wise  and  ask  fancy  prices." 

"I'm  less  interested  in  making  big  profits  right  away 
than  in  making  a  real  success  of  the  work.  What's  the 
use  of  my  working  just  to  make  money?  I'd  like  to 
see  something  grow  out  of  this — a  great  big  company, 
employing  thousands  of  men."  He  looked  at  Darrell 
steadily. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Darrell,  soothingly.  "You 
are  young." 

"That's  it.  I  have  plenty  of  time,  and  if  the  work 
is  big—" 

"The  bigger  the  work,  the  bigger  the  profit,"  said 
Darrell,  sententiously.  Sam  felt  that  the  Westerner 
did  not  entirely  understand  him.  He  explained,  a 
trifle  deprecatingly: 

"I  don't  wish  to  think  of  the  money  end  of  this 
deal." 

"I'll  save  you  the  brain-fatigue  at  that  end.  You 
take  the  other." 

"Darrell,"  said  Sam,  determinedly,  "I  mean  it  when 
I  say  that  I'm  not  interested  in  making  money  so 
much  as  in  playing  the  game  fairly  and  squarely 
and—" 

"Look  here,  son,  don't  be  an  ass.  You  can  help  it 
if  you  really  try.  You  talk  like  a  New  England  con 
science  in  a  story-book.  Nobody  needs  to  do  dirty 
work  for  money.  I  never  have,  and  I  don't  expect  I 

I76 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

ever  will.  I  wouldn't  lie  even  to  a  woman.  But  I'm 
not  going  to  see  you  panhandled  by  any  old  hobo  that 
strolls  along,  and  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  pay  any 
idiotic  price  for  anything  you  may  think  you  ought  to 
have.  You  are  merely  playing  at  business  now.  It's 
a  novelty  to  you  and  you  are  a  little  excited  about  it. 
What  I  don't  understand  is  why  you  don't  let  your 
father  do  the  instructing." 

' '  He  tells  me  what  he  wants  and  I  see  how  he  is  go 
ing  to  get  it.  He  doesn't  steal  or  lie  with  his  own  lips. 
But  he  works  through  the  ticker.  Do  you  know  what 
that  means?" 

1  'Oh  yes,  I  know.  It  takes  a  heap  of  brains  to  do 
it  well,  and  your  father's  one  of  the  tiptoppers.  See 
here,  if  you  want  me  to  go  into  this  or  any  other  deal 
with  you,  I'm  with  you  to  the  limit.  If  you  don't,  and 
you  just  wish  me  to  go  along  as  your  private  secretary 
and  professor  of  wisdom-toothing,  I'm  your  huckle 
berry,  and  I'll  pay  my  own  board-bills  besides.  But, 
in  the  name  of  common-sense,  don't  get  too  blooming 
virtuous  so  early  in  the  game!  Feelings  hurt?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  laughed  Sam.  "I  talk  like  an  ass. 
What  I  really  wanted  to  say  was  that  I  want  to  do  a 
certain  thing  without  all  this  cold-blooded — " 

"You  don't  know  any  better.  It's  a  common  disease 
at  your  age.  Wait  until  you  stack  up  good  and  hard 
against  the  great  American  Hog  and  his  brother,  Fido- 
In-The-Oat-Bin,  as  well  as  a  few  millions  of  the  Get- 
Rich-Quick  family." 

"That's  what  he  says." 

"Who?" 

"My  father." 

"He's  right." 

"That's  all  very  well.  But  you  don't  have  to  be 
177 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

an  ass  to  keep  from  certain  forms  of  persuasion,  do 
you?" 

"My  boy,  every  day  I  get  dozens  of  letters  from 
people  who  want  to  sell  me  mines,  every  one  of  them  a 
bonanza  that  will  make  the  Comstock  Lode  look  like  a 
cobble-stone.  Some  of  them  are  sincere  but  ignorant, 
and  don't  know  their  mines  are  little  one-man  affairs. 
Other  mines  are  too  far  from  a  railroad — or  no  timber — 
or  something  that  makes  them  impracticable.  But 
their  owners  only  think  of  the  ore  they  know  they  have. 
Again,  others  know  what  they've  got  and  what  it'll 
cost  to  get  the  stuff  out,  and  they  are  willing  you 
should  make  a  nice  thing  out  of  your  investment, 
something  like  two  per  cent,  a  century,  if  there  are  no 
accidents.  A  man  who  buys  property  of  any  kind 
runs  all  sorts  of  chances.  You've  got  to  figure  on  them 
and  you  mustn't  cheat  yourself.  This  game  of  freeze- 
out  that  you  hear  about  so  much  is  oftener  brought  on 
by  the  hoggishness  of  the  man  who  is  really  yearning 
for  the  cold-storage.  We'll  go  down  and  take  a  look 
at  the  coal  and  iron  lands.  Then  I'll  let  you  deliver  a 
few  more  Fourth  of  Julys.  See?" 

"That's  what  I  wish  to  do." 

"First  I'll  have  a  mortgage  drawn  up,  or  you'll  do 
so—" 

"No,  you,"  said  Sam. 

"All  right;  that's  in  case  you  croak.  And  I'll  lend 
you  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars." 

"Can  you  spare  as  much  as  that?" 

"Yes;  and  my  New  England  conscience  does  not 
vociferously  demand  that  you  should  tell  me  the  name 
of  the  stock  you  are  going  to  buy." 

"It's — "  began  Sam,  impetuously.  He  felt  both 
178 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

gratitude  for  such  confidence  and  pleasure  that  such 
a  man  lived.  Darrell  interrupted  him,  quickly: 

"Don't.  It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  your  dad.  We'll 
make  him  help  us  on  the  coal  proposition." 

"Yes.  But  I  also  want  to  see  if  I  can't  get  a  big 
block  of  the  railroad  stock  held  by  the  people  who  are 
now  in  control  that  he  doesn't  think  can  be  bought. 
The  reason  he  thinks  so  is  that  he  says  their  price  is 
too  high." 

"You'd  better  let  him  be  the  judge." 

"Why,  man  alive,  I  know  what  he  is  going  to  sell 
that  stock  for,  after  he  gets  it.  I  know  what  can  be 
done  with  the  old  railroad  if  money  is  spent  on  it — " 

"How  do  you  know?  Since  when  have  you  become 
a  railroad  expert?" 

"I  saw  the  report  of  a  man  my  father  says  is  the 
best  in  the  country." 

"Get  a  copy  of  it." 

"I  will.     And—" 

"Yes,  and  read  it  slowly  fifty  times,  forward  and 
backward.  But,  honest  Injun,  boy,  if  I  were  you  I'd 
be  content  to  play  second  fiddle  to  father  for  as  many 
years  as  God  spares  his  life.  Leave  the  railroad 
alone  and  stick  to  the  coal  and  iron  proposition.  All 
you  need  learn  is  how  to  care  for  your  own  when  you 
will  no  longer  have  the  Old  Man  behind  you." 

"No;  I  want  to  do  more  than  that,"  said  Sam, 
quietly.  "I'm  an  ass  now.  But  I  know  it.  I  want 
to  learn  something  I  don't  know."  He  had  big  work 
to  do.  It  was  worth  while  to  earn  Fanny.  That 
thought  of  earning  her — old  as  love  and  common  as 
misery — pleased  him  mightily. 

"Jack,"  he  finished,  quietly,  "we  must  not  lose  any 
time.  Come  over  and  have  luncheon  with  me  to- 

179 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

morrow,  will  you?     I'll  be  at  the  office  all  day.     I 
want  you  to  meet  my  father. ' ' 

"I'll  do  even  more  than  that  to  oblige  a  friend  in 
distress.  We'll  make  a  man  of  you  yet.  Now,  let's 
go  to  the  theatre  and  listen  to  other  voices  than  our 
own,  for  a  change. ' ' 


xni 

O  AMPSON  ROCK'S  programme,  as  Sam  called  it, 

O  was  changed  on  the  next  day.  He  bought  stock 
all  around  the  room — that  is,  he  bought  back  the 
various  stocks  he  had  previously  sold  in  order  to 
depress  Virginia  Central  artistically  and  bought  a 
little  more.  The  market  had  begun  to  show  signs  of 
demoralization  here  and  there.  All  the  professionals 
were  selling  too  confidently,  because  the  truthful  tape 
hinted  at  far  worse  things  to  come.  It  was  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  looked  to  them  as  if  the  safest  thing 
in  the  world  was  to  sell  stocks  short  that  he  began  to 
buy.  In  so  doing  he  was  in  a  highly  profitable  minor 
ity.  After  he  had  very  quietly,  almost  meekly  and 
quite  unnoticed,  bought  more  than  he  had  sold,  he  bid 
for  more — his  brokers  did — boldly,  confidently,  osten 
tatiously.  The  sapient  sellers  hesitated.  He  bought 
more.  The  sellers  began  to  fear  they  had  made  a 
mistake.  He  bought  still  more.  The  market  became 
active  and  strong,  prices  rising.  Wherever  the  short 
interest  was  heavy,  there  was  a  scramble.  Virginia 
Central  rose  like  the  others,  reluctantly  at  first,  then 
with  a  quick  little  jump  to  thirty-nine,  at  which  price 
Rock  sold  to  the  traders  what,  without  having,  they 
had  previously  sold  at  thirty-seven  and  thirty-six.  He 
explained  to  Sam — who  once  more  realized  that  the 
game  could  not  be  learned  in  one  day — that  his  opera- 

181 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

tions  had  created  too  numerous  a  following  and  that, 
to  prevent  it  from  hindering,  it  must  be  shaken  out. 
After  a  day  or  two  of  ascending  prices,  when  everybody 
would  be  ready  to  swear  that  prices  must  inevitably 
go  very  much  higher — for  the  tape  said  so — he  would 
begin  to  sell  stocks  in  bulk  once  more.  To  keep  people 
guessing  facilitated  the  good  work. 

Sam  understood  why  patience  was  profitable  and 
also  how  it  could  be  borne  philosophically.  He  took 
advantage  of  the  resting  spell  to  broach  the  subject 
of  a  trip  to  Virginia  to  go  over  the  Roanoke  and  the 
Virginia  Central.  And  also  he  would  like  to  look  at 
the  Austin  furnaces.  ' '  Darrell  is  a  great  mining  expert 
and  he  is  a  mighty  nice  fellow.  I'd  like  to  take  him 
with  me.  I've  told  him  I  want  to  study  the  coal  and 
iron  mines  of  central  Virginia.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  do." 

"Tired  of  that,  Sam?" — Sampson  Rock  pointed  to 
the  ticker.  He  did  not  even  ask  Sam  if  he  had  been 
indiscreet  in  his  talk  with  Darrell. 

"No;  but  I  know  this  end  of  the  deal  now — that  is, 
I  know  what  you  are  doing.  Now,  I  want  to  see  what 
Virginia  is  like.  I'd  like  to  go  over  the  Roanoke  first 
and—" 

"Very  well,  Sam.  Keep  your  mouth  shut  and  your 
eyes  open,  and  ask  questions  from  the  division  super 
intendents.  I'll  arrange  things  for  you.  How  long  do 
you  think  you'll  be  away?" 

He  asked  this  carelessly.  He  would  miss  his  son. 
They  had  spent  hours  together,  they  had  talked  at 
great  length,  and  he  was  encouraged,  he  assured  him 
self,  because  Sam  listened  intently  and  asked  many 
questions — questions  which  showed  utter  ignorance, 
but  also  moderate  intelligence.  Sam  could  grasp  ele- 

182 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

mental  truths  quickly  enough,  and  he  had  self-confi 
dence.  He  ought  to  acquire  the  habit  of  quick  and 
accurate  thinking  at  all  times.  Rock  had  not  missed 
Sam  very  much  while  Sam  was  travelling  around  the 
world;  but  he  would  miss  Sam  a  great  deal  while  Sam 
was  travelling  in  Virginia.  We  learn  to  live  economi 
cally  and  do  it  for  years.  A  little  prosperity,  and  we 
no  longer  know  how  to  economize — either  money  or 
affections. 

"Oh,"  said  Sam,  also  carelessly,  "I  don't  know;  a 
couple  of  weeks — unless  you  need  me."  He  looked 
quizzically  at  his  father;  then  he  finished:  "I'll  miss 
you,  Dad."  He  walked  over  and  threw  his  arm  around 
Rock's  shoulder.  He  repeated:  "I'll  miss  you  like 
anything.  But  I've  got  to  see  that  railroad  with  my 
own  eyes.  And  I  want  to  see  the  country  and  talk  to 
the  people  down  there  and  learn  certain  things  for  my 
self." 

Sampson  Rock  was  pleased  to  feel  his  son's  arm 
about  his  neck.  But  all  he  said  was: 

"Bear  in  mind  that  you  are  not  to  talk  to  any  one 
about  my  business  affairs.  You  are  my  son,  and 
therefore — " 

"And  therefore  I'm  an  ass.     I  understand." 

Sampson  Rock  laughed.  "Don't  overdo  it,  Sammy, 
even  if  it  comes  natural." 

Valentine  came  in. 

"Sam,  Mr.  Darrell  is  here." 

"I  want  to  introduce  him  to  you,  Dad."  And,  as 
Sampson  Rock  nodded,  Sam  went  to  the  outer  office. 
Presently  he  came  back  with  his  friend: 

"Father,  this  is  my  friend,  John  A.  Darrell." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Darrell?"  Rock  spoke  pleas 
antly,  but  made  no  motion  to  shake  hands. 

183 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"I'm  very  glad  to  meet  Sam's  father,"  said  Darrell, 
and  bowed. 

"You've  done  considerable  work  for  the  Hein- 
sheimer  Exploration  Syndicate,  I  think,  Mr.  Darrell?" 
Rock's  voice  and  manner  were  very  polite,  but  his 
eyes  were  keenly  studying  the  mining  expert.  The 
mining  expert  was  conscious  of  the  scrutiny  without 
resenting  it. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  calmly,  "quite  a  little." 

"Let  me  see.  I  think  I  saw  your  Blue  Blazes  re 
port."  Rock  spoke  reminiscently.  "Yes,  I  did.  It 
interested  me  very  much.  I  thought  it  a  highly  in 
telligible  report.  How  are  they  getting  on?" 

"Better  than  I  predicted  in  the  report,  but  no  better 
than  I  believe  d  personally.  They'll  do  still  better  when 
they—" 

"When  they  build  their  own  railroad?"  interrupted 
Rock. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Darrell,  with  a  mild  look  of  surprise. 

Rock  laughed.  "Of  course,  as  long  as  they  stick  to 
the  Central  they'll  help  Bill  Rolston  more  than  any 
body  else.  They'll  do  nothing  for  a  year  or  two." 

"I  understood — "  began  Darrell. 

"Talk!  You  don't  know  the  rivalry  between  Je — 
between  the  Pacific  Midland  and  the  Denver  & 
Southern.  When  the  syndicate  gets  tired  of  the  dog- 
in-the-manger  business  and  tells  both  to  go,  to  get  out, 
you'll  get  your  road — and  not  before.  Your  little  road 
should  connect  with  both." 

"Oh,  there  is  really  no  need — " 

"Yes,  there  is — at  Yellow  Jade  and  at  Lincolnville. 
It  would  only  mean  a  little  more  expense,  and  look  at 
the  position  of  the  Blue  Blazes :  three  roads,  all 
enemies,  to  pick  from,.  Any  one  of  them  would  buy 

184 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

out  at  a  profit  your  road,  once  it  was  built,  to  keep 
the  other  two  away,  and  fix  rates  to  suit." 

11 1  see,"  said  Darrell,  very  much  interested.  He  had 
quite  a  block  of  the  stock. 

"It  will  come  in  time.  The  first  syndicate  did  pretty 
well.  If  I  had  known  you  at  the  time,  it  might  have 
done  better.  Sam  wants  to  go  to  Virginia,  Mr.  Darrell. 
I  think  he  thinks  he  is  a  captain  of  industry." 

"  So  he's  told  me.  I'm  afraid  he'll  end  in  one,  if  you 
don't  watch  out." 

Sampson  Rock  laughed.  He  said:  "Well,  Sam,  if 
Mr.  Darrell  finds  some  good  mine  or  other  golden  op 
portunity  in  Virginia,  you'd  better  take  it.  But  re 
member,  I'm  not  the  Bank  of  England." 

The  thought  came  to  Sam  that  he  might  use  DarreH's 
reputation  in  order  to  raise  the  money  he  needed 
from  Sampson  Rock  himself.  He  said,  slowly:  "I'll 
keep  you  to  your  word.  Remember.  Darrell  and  I 
are  going  to  luncheon.  Won't  you  come  with  us, 
Dad?" 

"No,  thanks.  I  have  to  work  for  a  living.  Mr. 
Darrell,  I'm  very  glad  to  have  met  you.  If  I  can  ever 
be  of  service,  drop  in — with  or  without  Sam."  He 
extended  his  hand  and  Darrell  shook  it  and  was  glad 
to  do  so.  He  liked  Sam's  father. 

"So  long,  Dad.  I'll  see  you  at  the  Union  Club  at 
six?" 

"No.  We'll  dine  at  home.  Bring  Mr.  Darrell,  if  he 
hasn't  better  things  to  do."  He  waved  his  hand  at 
them  almost  jovially  and  returned  to  the  ticker.  Five 
minutes  later  he  was  driving  the  frightened  shorts 
before  him  like  a  flock  of  sheep. 

After  luncheon  Sam  and  Darrell  went  to  the  office  of 
Albert  Sydney  &  Co.,  Darrell's  brokers.  Sam  read 

185 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

over  the  mortgage.  Notwithstanding  his  unfamiliarity 
with  legal  documents,  he  was  certain  that  it  was  what 
it  purported  to  be.  Darrell  had  made  out  a  check  for 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  Sam's  order,  and  Sam 
endorsed  it  over  to  Albert  Sydney  &  Co.  Then  he  talked 
business  to  Sydney.  He  was  more  concerned  with  not 
being  indiscreet  than  with  anything  else  in  connection 
with  the  operation. 

"Mr.  Sydney,  I'd  like  to  buy  a  little  stock."  He 
paused. 

"Delighted  to  be  of  any  use  to  you,  Mr.  Rock." 

The  broker's  use  of  the  name  made  Sam  say:  "But 
I  don't  want  my  father  to  know  anything  about  it." 

In  some  people  that  same  desire  that  Sampson  Rock 
should  know  nothing  about  a  stock  deal  was  compre 
hensible  for  obvious  reasons.  In  this  instance  the 
reason  was  also  obvious  to  the  broker — the  boy  feared 
paternal  sermons  on  the  evils  of  gambling.  But  so  long 
as  he  paid  his  commissions  and  the  margin  was  ade 
quate,  one  man's  money  was  as  good  as  another's. 
Young  Rock  was  of  legal  age,  at  all  events. 

Sydney  explained  tranquillizingly.  "Our  business, 
Mr.  Rock,  is  altogether  a  confidential  matter  between 
our  customers  and  ourselves.  It  is  the  same  in  any 
reputable  office."  He  took  it  upon  himself  that  Sam 
was  a  stranger  to  Wall  Street  methods,  like  other  rich 
men's  young  sons. 

"You'll  give  the  reports  to  Darrell.  I'd  rather  not 
have  them  mailed  to  me."  This  confirmed  Sydney's 
theory.  Still,  it  ought  to  be  a  good  account. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Rock." 

"Virginia  Central.  That's  around  thirty-eight.  It's 
down  from  around  forty-eight.  Don't  you  think  it 
ought  to  go  up  again?" 

186 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  Rock.     I  wish  I  did." 

"Of  course,"  Sam  laughed,  pleasantly.  "Well,  buy 
me  a  thousand  shares  every  point  down.  Begin  at 
thirty-five  and — " 

"It's  thirty-eight  now,"  interjected  Sydney,  broker- 
like. 

"I  know.  But  it  might  sell  at  thirty-five — "  Sam 
became  aware  that  he  was  speaking  almost  indis 
creetly,  so  he  went  on:  "It  looks  as  if  the  market 
ought  to  go  down.  If  it  does,  Virginia  Central  ought 
to  go  down,  too.  If  it  sells  at  thirty-five,  buy  me  one 
thousand,  and  another  at  thirty -four,  and  if  it  goes 
lower—" 

"Sellout?" 

"Not  much,"  said  Sam.  "Buy  one  thousand  at 
thirty-five,  one  thousand  at  thirty-four,  two  thousand 
at  thirty-three,  and  three  thousand  at  thirty-two;  and 
then,  if—" 

"That  will  take  a  lot  of  money,  Mr.  Rock,"  said 
Sydney,  dubiously.  "We  like  to  keep  a  margin  of 
fifteen  points,  or  at  least  ten,  in  ordinary  times." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right!  If  you  need  more  money  at 
any  time,  let  Darrell  know." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Darrell,  "I'm  going  to  stay  here  some 
time." 

"Frankly,  Mr.  Rock,"  said  Sydney,  "I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  have  your  account.  But  I  think  you  ought  to 
realize  thoroughly  that  this  game,  as  your  father  would 
probably  tell  you  if  you  asked  him,  is — "  Sydney  was 
one  man  in  a  thousand.  Some  of  his  friends  said  he  was 
eccentric.  His  enemies  said  the  same  thing,  different 
ly  expressed. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Sydney ," broke  in  Sam,  very  pleasantly, 
because  he  saw  that  Sydney  was  honest,  "I  know  all 
13  187 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

you  are  going  to  say.  I  am  very  grateful  for  your  good 
intentions.  But  let  me  tell  you  this:  There's  only  one 
way  to  learn  anything,  and  that  is  by  experience.  All 
I  ask  is  that  you  don't  tell  a  soul  that  I'm  speculating 
through  you.  And  so,  if  you  will  buy  Virginia  Central 
as  I  said  —  let  me  see  —  one  thousand  at  thirty -five, 
one  thousand  at  thirty-four,  two  thousand  at  thirty- 
three,  and  three  thousand  at  thirty- two,  and  four 
thousand  at  thirty-one — if  it  goes  that  low,  whether  it's 
to-day  or  to-morrow  or  next  week  or  next  month.  And 
when  it  goes  up,  if  it  does  go  up,  don't  sell  until  I  say 
so.  Darrell  and  I  are  going  out  of  town  to  -  morrow. 
Say,  you  have  quite  a  view  of  the  river  from  this  win 
dow,  haven't  you?" 

He  walked  over  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  over 
the  roofs  of  the  lower  buildings,  to  the  North  River. 
Ferry-boats  were  crawling  on  the  gray  water  like  some 
sort  of  giant  beetles,  and  officious  little  tugs  were 
blowing  white  smoke-rings  into  the  air  as  they  puffed 
their  way  up-stream.  But  he  did  not  see  them.  In 
an  autohypnotic  spell,  his  vision  was  several  hundred 
miles  farther  south,  a  vision  less  vivid  than  his  father's, 
but  nevertheless  it  was  there.  This  part  of  the  big 
work  he  didn't  relish.  But  once  in  Virginia.  .  .  . 

"Great  Scott!"  muttered  Sydney  to  Darrell.  "His 
father  had  better  be  rich." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  laughed  Darrell.  "He  is  a  nice  chap; 
only  he  is  young.  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  much  if 
he  turned  out  to  be  as  bright  as  his  father,  some  day." 

"It  would  surprise  me  to  death,"  answered  Sydney. 
Then  to  Sam:  "Very  well,  Mr.  Rock.  I'll  do  as  you 
say,  and  I  hope  you  make  a  nice  thing  out  of  it.  You'll 
probably  get  the  stock,  all  right." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Sam,  gently.  Sydney  felt  very 
188 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

sorry  for  the  lad,  which  made  the  broker  feel  very 
friendly. 

"Remember,  please,  you  mustn't  breathe  a  word  to 
anybody  about  my  buying  this  stock,"  finished  Sam. 

"I  most  certainly  won't,"  Sydney  assured  him,  ear 
nestly.  He  would  say  nothing  to  hold  his  young  cus 
tomer  to  the  scorn  of  the  world  —  of  the  same  world 
that  did  not  scorn  his  young  customer's  father.  "If 
you  go  out  of  town  you  had  better  keep  in  touch  with 
us — I  mean,  let  us  know  where  we  can  reach  you  by 
wire." 

"Oh  yes." 


XIV 

SAM  arranged  to  leave  early  the  next  day  for  Vir 
ginia.  He  would  study  the  possibilities  of  in 
dustrial  development  along  the  line  of  the  Virginia 
Central,  he  told  his  father,  in  a  broad,  general  way,  and 
he  secured  a  copy  of  Williams 's  report,  in  which  Samp 
son  Rock  had  prudently  substituted  initials  for  names. 
Sam  learned  also  that  his  father  now  had  forty  thou 
sand  shares  of  Virginia  Central  stock,  which  was  as 
much  as  he  could  reasonably  expect ;  but  he  would  soon 
resume  the  campaign  of  depression  in  the  stock-market, 
and  the  final ' '  drive  "  would  not  be  long  in  coming.  He 
thought  the  "low  price"  would  be  thirty  or  a  little  un 
der.  Also,  he  gave  Sam  a  thick  package  of  "yellow 
backs"  and  told  him  to  leave  his  pass-book  with  Val 
entine.  There  was  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  at  the 
Metropolitan  National  Bank  to  Sam's  credit,  and,  if  Sam 
would  only  keep  his  check-stubs  accurately,  he  could 
notify  Valentine  to  deposit  more  from  time  to  time. 

After  dinner  Sam  went  to  see  Fanny. 

Her  greeting  was  friendly ;  no  more.  He  looked  well, 
she  thought,  but  a  trifle  absent-minded.  She  looked 
more  than  well,  he  thought.  But  he  did  not  give  up 
the  work  he  was  about  to  commence  in  Virginia.  To 
earn  this  girl!  .  .  .  He  forced  himself  to  look  calm. 

Mrs.  Collyer  came  towards  him  with  outstretched 
hand.  ' '  How  do  you  do,  Sam  ?  And  how  is  Sampson  ? 

190 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

Do  you  happen  to  know  how  Roanoke  closed  to-day?" 
Before  he  could  answer  she  added,  half  apologetically 
and  half  in  admiration  at  her  own  stoicism:  "I  haven't 
seen  the  evening  papers  yet!" 

"The  entire  market  was  very  strong.  Roanoke 
closed  at  eighty,  I  think." 

Mrs.  Collyer  beamed  on  him;  she  would  have  beamed 
on  the  hangman  if  he  had  brought  the  same  news;  it 
meant  a  profit  of  two  thousand  dollars.  That  was  the 
honey;  the  gall  that,  on  second  thought,  went  with  it 
was  that  she  had  held  the  stock  a  fortnight  and  the 
profit  ought  to  have  been  greater.  How  the  bitter 
runs  with  the  sweet  in  this  world! 

"Eighty!  That  is  still  a  long  way  from  par."  She 
shook  her  head;  and  then,  for  decency's  sake,  smiled. 

"Oh,  it's  only  twenty  points,"  laughed  Sam.  "You 
must  be  patient,  Aunt  Marie.  You  can't  make  a 
million  a  minute." 

"It's  two  weeks  now,"  she  said,  rebukingly,  "and 
anyhow,  it  would  be  only  twenty-two  thousand  dollars 
if  it  was  par."  She  looked  at  him  triumphantly — the 
triumph  of  her  own  moderation  in  the  teeth  of  temp 
tation. 

"Just  be  patient."  Then  he  added,  reassuringly: 
"We'll  get  it  there  for  you!" 

She  smiled  gratefully,  because  she  was  grateful  to 
hear  another  voice  than  that  of  her  soul's  desire.  She 
yearned  for  a  mighty  chorus  singing  a  song  of  promise. 
Patience  ?  She  would  undergo  that,  or  any  other  form 
of  torture,  if  only,  in  the  end,  Roanoke  sold  at  par. 

"Patience,  Sam,  dear,"  she  declared  with  a  sort  of 
playful  sternness — Mrs.  Collyer  was  really  posing  before 
Mrs.  Collyer — "is  the  one  quality  I  possess  to  an  ex 
traordinary  degree."  She  began  to  count  on  her 

191 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

fingers  very  rapidly.  If  she  had  three  thousand  shares 
at  eighty  and  the  price  went  up,  not  even  to  par,  only 
to  ninety-five — 

"Patience  is  a  good  thing  to  have,  Aunt  Marie,"  Sam 
acquiesced,  gravely.  "If  you  are  not  born  with  it, it  is 
mighty  hard  to  acquire  it." 

Fanny's  eyes  did  not  leave  Sam's  face  while  he  was 
speaking.  She  gladly  would  have  listened  to  him 
talking  about  stocks  all  night  because  she  was  con 
vinced  that  he  did  not  speak  as  a  mere  echo  of  Sampson 
Rock,  nor,  which  was  even  more  pleasing,  with  an  air 
of  boyish  bravado,  unintelligently  proud  of  his  sudden 
transformation;  but  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  a  sort  of 
sincere  sedateness.  Some  men  had  a  quick  adaptability, 
and  possibly  Sam — 

But  it  was  better  not  to  expect  too  much  too  soon. 

Mrs.  Collyer  made  up  her  mind  to  buy  another 
thousand  Roanoke  the  next  day.  The  reason  why  she 
did  not  decide  on  five  thousand  was  that  a  satanic 
thought  crept  in  through  one  of  the  still  open  gates: 
Supposing  the  stock  went  down  ?  The  vision  of  doom 
that  engloomed  her  soul  in  the  fraction  of  a  second  at  the 
mere  thought  was  enough.  She  shivered ;  a  little  more 
and  she  would  have  exuded  icicles.  No ;  another  thou 
sand  shares  would  do.  That  meant  forty  thousand 
dollars  profit  at  par.  Better  little  and  safe  than  much 
and  vanishable.  In  the  recesses  of  her  gambler  soul 
one  of  the  Mrs.  Collyers  congratulated  the  other  on 
her  philosophy. 

"Sam,  I'm  going  to  write  a  note  to  Mr.  Valentine. 
Will  you  give  it  to  him  early  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Marie.  I  won't  forget.  I'll  bet  it  is  very 
important." 

His  flippant  words  made  her  say,  suspiciously:  "He 
192 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

must  have  it  before  ten.  Perhaps  I'd  better  mail  it. 
You  don't  breakfast  until — " 

"I'm  working  with  Dad,  now.  We  go  down-town 
together  every  morning." 

"Very  well,  then."  She  was  reassured  and  was 
tempted  to  tell  Sam  to  ask  his  father  if  it  was  wise  to 
buy  the  second  thousand.  But  Sampson  Rock  might 
dissuade  her  from  buying  it;  he  might  dissuade  her 
from  winning  forty  thousand  dollars.  These  men 
gambled  and  made  millions  and  always  preached  "con 
servatism."  She  wished  with  all  her  mind  and  heart 
and  soul  that  Roanoke  would  go  to  par.  It  was  there 
fore  inevitable  that  Roanoke  would  go  there.  Why 
not? 

"I'll  go  and  write  it  at  once.  You  won't  forget,  will 
you?" 

"How  could  I,  now?" 

She  nodded  unhumorously  and  went  to  the  library. 

Sam  turned  to  Fanny.  He  looked  at  her  a  moment 
before  speaking.  She  was  very  beautiful.  Her  hair, 
the  light  in  her  eyes,  the  color  of  her  cheeks,  the  poise 
of  her  head — she — all — had  grown  more  beautiful  than 
ever.  He  said,  calmly:  "Fanny,  I  am  going  to  Vir 
ginia  to-morrow — on  business." 

"I'm  so  glad,  Sam,"  she  said,  eagerly. 

"Glad  I'm  going?" 

"Yes;  glad  you're  going  on  business.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  ?" 

"Do?  I  hope  to  do  something — something  to  earn 
you!"  He  took  a  deep  breath.  He  had  not  lost  sight 
of  his  resolve  to  help  secure  the  control  of  the  Virginia 
Central  for  the  Roanoke  at  a  fair  price  and  to  develop 
the  resources  of  Austin  County.  But  as  he  looked  at 
her,  filling  his  soul  with  the  sight  of  her  as  he  filled  his 

193 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

lungs  with  air,  the  worst  he  did  was  to  continue  to 
think  that  he  would  do  all  this  for  her  sake.  It  made 
him  say,  logically: 

"Fanny,  when  I  come  back,  you  must  be  prepared 
to— " 

"Don't  be  silly,  Sam,"  she  interrupted.  If  it  would 
come  to  that,  would  it —  But  she  refused  to  listen  to 
her  own  answer. 

"I'm  not.  I  mean  business.  You  need  not  do  as  I 
say  if  I  don't  make  good.  But  I'll  make  good." 

She  was  silent  because  he  was  not  laughing,  and  he 
was  not  gloomy  and  he  looked  terribly  self-confident. 
He  did  not  notice  that  she  was  silent.  He  was  inter 
ested  in  what  he  still  had  to  tell  her. 

"Fanny,  I  think  I  now  have  an  opportunity  to  do 
something  useful.  I  may  fail,  because  I'm  doing  it  on 
my  own  hook  without  any  help  or  advice  from  my 
father  and  without  resorting  to  underhand  methods." 
He  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  way  he  had  begun, 
in  Sydney's  office.  But  that  was  no  crime.  There  had 
been  no  lying. 

"What  is  it,  Sam?"  she  asked,  excitedly. 

"I  won't  tell  you  now.  But  never  mind.  All  you 
have  to  know  is  that  with  the  first  money  I  make 
through  my  own  efforts  I'll  buy  two  rings  for  you; 
one  for  immediate  use,  and  the  other  for — " 

"Tell  me  more,  Sam — about  the  work,  over  there,  in 
that  nice  chair." 

"No;  I'll  stay  here  and  I'll  tell  you  the  same  thing 
again.  I  love  you  and  I  love  to  work  for  you.  It's 
nicer  to  work  for  both  of  us  than  for  myself  alone. 
Fanny,  do  you  love  me — er — yet?" 

"You  promised  not  to — " 

"I  didn't  promise  not  to  love  you.  I  can't  promise 
194 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

that,  Fanny,"  he  whispered,  huskily.  "I've  loved  you 
all  my  life.  I'll  be  gone  for  a  long  time — maybe  weeks, 
Fanny !  Will  you — er — will  you — ' '  He  looked  at  her. 
In  his  eyes,  very  bright  and  moist,  there  was  an  en 
treaty;  in  his  face,  flushed  and  tense,  there  was  hunger. 
He  was  leaning  over  her, 

"Fanny,"  he  repeated,  "if  you  love  me,  won't  you — 
ah — just  one,  Fanny!  Tell  me  if  you  love  me,  and — " 
He  bent  closer.  She  drew  away  weakly.  "I'll  be  gone 
so  long,  working  for  you,  dear  girl!" 

"Here's  the  letter,  Sam,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer.  She 
had  seen  nothing,  because  before  her  mind  was  the  tape 
on  which  the  ticker  of  her  dreams  was  printing:  "Roan 
oke,  96,  97,  98,  99,  100!" 

"I'll  give  it  to  Valentine,"  said  Sam,  composedly, 
"the  first  thing  in  the  morning."  He  walked  towards 
her,  took  the  letter,  and  placed  it  in  his  inside  coat- 
pocket  very  deliberately,  with  an  air  of  realizing  how 
important  the  letter  was.  His  face  was  still  flushed 
and  his  fingers  felt  stiff.  Fanny's  face  was  also  flushed, 
and  she  was  glad  he  was  not  so  near  now;  it  helped  to 
subdue  that  curious  nervous  trembling  that  did  not 
show  outwardly. 

"Sam's  going  south  to-morrow,  mother,"  said  Fanny. 

"Are  you,  Sam?  Whatever  in  the  world  are  you 
going  to  do  there  at  this  time  of  the  year?" 

He  almost  answered  that  he  was  going  down  to 
make  Roanoke  sell  at  par  very  quickly.  But  what  he 
said  was  that  he  was  going  because  he  had  begun  to 
work  with  his  father,  and  one  of  the  first  things  he 
would  do  was  to  go  over  the  Roanoke  and  see  the 
improvements  that  were  making.  He  spoke  seriously 
but  not  over-earnestly,  Fanny  thought,  without  the 
enthusiasm  that  would  have  made  her  fear  it  would 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

not  last.  He  plagiarized  bodily  from  his  father's  dis 
sertation  on  the  art  and  science  of  railroading,  but 
made  it  sound  original  by  saying  how  interesting  he 
had  found  it  to  learn  all  this  and  how  much  more  there 
was  to  it  than  anybody  suspected. 

He  perceived  he  would  not  have  another  opportunity 
to  be  alone  with  Fanny  that  night,  and  because  of  that 
blood-cooling  fact,  and  also  because  he  began  to  think 
of  Robinson  and  his  stock,  he  spoke  calmly,  judiciously, 
and  interested  them. 

He  shook  hands  with  Fanny — a  firm  and  significant 
grasp — as  he  took  his  leave.  He  was  cool.  He  was 
even  ready  to  begin  a  scientific,  deliberate,  methodical 
siege. 

"Good -night,  Fanny.  Remember,  when  I  come 
back!"  He  looked  at  her  meaningly.  His  firm  re 
solve  to  "make  good"  made  his  heart  beat  almost 
normally. 

"Good-night,  Sam.     I  wish  you  luck!" 

She  looked  at  him.     She  meant  it! 

And  as  Sam  walked  away,  his  soul  was  among  the 
stars  and  his  body  almost  soared  with  it,  it  felt  so  light, 
so  buoyed  with  love  and  hope.  He  could  not  live 
without  her,  he  could  not  work  unless  he  worked  for 
her.  Of  course  he  would  marry  her.  .  .  . 

He  did  not  think  of  the  work  in  Virginia  for  fully 
six  blocks. 


XV 

SAM  and  Darrell  decided  to  "inspect"  the  Vir 
ginia  Central  first,  without  waiting  to  see  what 
his  father's  Roanoke  &  Western  was  like.  Sam  had 
read  the  copy  of  Walter  Williams's  report  on  the  Robin 
son  road  so  carefully  and  had  discussed  it  with  Darrell 
so  often  on  the  way  that  he  felt  almost  like  a  railroad 
expert.  Darrell  had  spent  his  last  hours  in  New  York 
collecting  data  on  the  Austin  County  iron  deposits  and 
coal  mines  in  general,  and  on  the  Austin  Iron  Company 
in  particular.  Its  shares  were  quoted  in  Richmond  at 
from  thirty-five  to  forty  dollars  a  share — a  "wide" 
quotation  due  to  the  stock's  inactivity  and  its  limited 
market.  The  capital  stock  was  only  two  million  dol 
lars,  because  the  company  had  been  organized  in  dull 
times  when  it  was  only  necessary  to  inject  about  sixty 
per  cent,  of  water,  instead  of  an  ocean,  as  during  booms. 
A  dividend — the  first  in  several  years — had  been  paid 
in  January;  it  was  only  two  per  cent.,  but  it  had  made 
the  stock  advance  about  ten  dollars  a  share.  The 
stock  had  sold  as  high  as  fifty  dollars  at  the  time  of  the 
incorporation,  when  the  organizers  wished  to  capitalize 
their  hopes,  and  as  low  as  eighteen  dollars  in  the  next 
panic,  when  fear  did  the  appraising. 

Sampson  Rock  had  said  that  the  acquisition  of  the 
Austin  mineral  lands  at  this  time  would  tie  up  capital 
that  he  could  use  to  greater  profit  in  the  stock-market 

197 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

end  of  the  big  deal.  Whoever  controlled  the  railroad 
had  the  mine-owners  at  his  mercy,  and  Sam  knew  his 
father  would  not  allow  the  owners'  hopes  of  better 
transportation  to  warp  their  judgment  as  to  the  value 
of  their  properties  to  him.  But  Sam  thought  only  that 
to  double,  to  treble  the  capacity  of  the  iron  works  and 
the  mines,  to  produce  two,  three,  five  tons  where  but 
one  was  now  produced,  to  create  something  that  had 
not  existed,  something  tangible,  real,  honest  —  that 
would  be  worth  doing.  Indeed,  as  he  thought  about 
it,  in  his  comfortable  chair  in  the  Pullman — Darrell  was 
reading  the  morning  papers  in  the  smoking  compart 
ment — there  came  to  him  the  American  vision  of  big 
ness:  a  Titanic  structure,  like  an  impressionistic  picture 
of  Pittsburg  at  night,  a  Niagara  of  molten  iron  and 
huge  smoke  spirals  blackening  the  sky,  vastness  and 
speed  and  life — the  strenuous  life  of  sweating  puddlers 
and  grimy  miners,  the  soldiers  of  toil,  picturesque  and 
inspiring,  a  great  army  fighting  the  modern  battle  of 
business.  He  could  not  see  the  outlines  of  it,  but  he 
did  seem  to  hear  the  roar  and  rumble  of  it,  and,  thrilled 
by  the  sound,  was  made  eager  to  begin.  It  was  a 
species  of  excitement  rather  than  exaltation  which 
filled  him  as  he  thought  about  it.  His  fingers  itched 
to  grasp  some  lever  that  would  start  the  stupendous 
machinery. 

But  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  his  dream  as 
the  Pullman  was  switched  into  Virginia  Central  terri 
tory.  It  was  a  new  world,  and  he  felt  more  like  a 
tourist  in  Virginia  than  he  had  felt  in  Borneo.  From 
the  Pullman  window  he  saw  things  kaleidoscopically. 
Impression  succeeded  impression  before  the  process  of 
mental  crystallization  could  fairly  begin.  Analysis  was 
impossible.  Walter  Williams's  report  on  the  Virginia 

198 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

Central  had  been  his  Baedeker;  but  now  he  saw  liv 
ing  pictures  in  lieu  of  mileage  figures  and  tonnage 
statistics,  and  he  could  not  identify  the  railroad 
of  the  report  with  the  railroad  over  which  he  was 
travelling. 

In  the  section  which  Sampson  Rock  already  saw 
thickly  settled,  with  a  new  population  profusely  sweat 
ing  from  its  strenuous  new  activities,  Sam  beheld  in 
stead  a  land  asleep,  Rip  Van  Winkle  counties,  a  terri 
tory  that  wore  an  air  of  comatose  unkemptness.  Even 
his  freely  self  -  admitted  ignorance  did  not  make  his 
hopes  soar.  The  long  stretches  of  rusty  single  track 
looked  absolutely  unimprovable;  the  potential  thrift 
and  industry  of  the  land  were  utterly  invisible.  He 
marvelled  at  the  wizard  sight  of  his  father — granting 
that  Sampson  Rock  was  not  mistaken — which  could 
translate  the  wheezing  of  the  decrepit  locomotive  and 
the  rattling  of  antiquated  passenger-cars  into  fat  divi 
dends.  The  room  for  improvement  was  vast,  but  the 
profitableness  of  it,  to  him,  who  had  never  thought  of 
profits,  seemed  akin  to  the  money-making  power  of  a 
summer  lemonade-garden  at  the  North  Pole  in  January. 
Indeed,  the  talk  of  the  ticker  was  easier  to  understand, 
and  the  abstractions  of  stock  speculations  seemed  con 
crete  and  comprehensible  beside  this  railroad  and  this 
country.  On  the  sidings  and  way-stations  the  strings 
of  empty  cars  suggested  not  freight  to  come,  the  ex 
change  of  transportation  for  the  shippers*  cash,  but 
rather  so  many  hearses — such  was  the  death-stillness 
whenever  the  train  stopped  and  the  engine's  asthmatic 
wheezing  ceased.  The  sweating,  grimy  army  of  toilers 
became  an  occasional  negro  or  a  malarial-looking  white 
native. 

He  turned  to  Darrell  for  the  relief  of  honest  confes- 
199 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

sion,  and  smiled  as  he  told  of  his  blindness.  But 
Darrell  answered,  seriously: 

"It's  natural  enough,  my  boy.  You  look,  but  you 
don't  yet  know  how  to  see.  It's  like  looking  at  a 
picture  and  thinking  it  perfect  until  an  artist  friend 
begins  to  point  out  where  the  left  arm  is  out  of  draw 
ing,  or  the  light  is  doing  unnatural  stunts,  or  something 
else  is  askew;  or  else  the  fine  points  you've  overlooked 
in  trying  to  see  who  it  was  that  painted  the  picture,  and 
the  date—" 

"I  know;  pass  on  to  the  fine  points." 

; "  Forget  Broadway.  This  road  is  no  blooming  street 
car  line,  but  it  ought  to  make  money  with  half  a  show 
in  the  way  of  equipment  and  other  improvements. 
This  country,  with  good  transportation  facilities,  will 
be  like  the  Southwest  after  irrigation  came.  But  it 
will  take  time  and  money.  Study  Williams 's  report 
some  more.  You'll  have  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
beyond  those  hills  there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
tons  of  freight  to  be  had  in  the  next  few  years.  Making 
money  is  contagious.  Prospectors  flock  to  a  new  min 
ing  district  on  the  first  news  of  a  strike,  and  the  first 
thing  you  know  thousands  are  there.  Well,  as  soon  as 
somebody  picks  up  a  dollar  or  two  here,  we'll  see  the 
mob  scratching  like  mad  for  car-fare.  When  you  hear 
of  a  manufacturing  concern  building  a  plant  that  will 
employ  two  thousand  men,  don't  think  of  a  few  tons 
of  machinery  and  a  one-hundred-and-fifty  by  seventy- 
five  brick  shed.  Just  turn  your  intellect  to  the  two 
thousand  men  and  their  wives  and  children,  and  the 
butcher-shops,  and  the  grocery-stores,  and  the  '  clothing 
emporiums,'  and  the  carpenters  and  plumbers  and  their 
help,  and  their  wives  and  children,  and — " 

"I  know,"  interrupted  Sam.  Darrell  was  talking 
200 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

like  a  school-teacher  to  a  child.  It  was  the  way  his 
father  spoke. 

"You  don't.  You  can't,  because  you  don't  know 
local  conditions.  I've  seen  Easterners  turn  pale  while 
travelling  over  barren  stretches  out  West  and  telegraph 
their  Wall  Street  brokers  to  go  short  at  once  of  Pacific 
&  Northern,  or  St.  James  &  Manitoba,  because  they 
couldn't  see  how  the  dividends  the  stocks  were  paying 
could  be  really  and  truly  earned.  The  railroad  presi 
dents  must  be  all  liars.  What  did  the  travellers  know 
of  the  lumber  -  camps  and  the  wheat  -  farms  and  the 
millions  of  tons  of  ore  being  dug  up  ?  Don't  you  worry 
about  the  Virginia  Central.  Your  father  knows  his 
business.  Let  that  fact  seep  through  the  lower  strata 
of  your  dome  of  thought.  If  the  Austin  property  is  as 
represented — and  we'll  mighty  soon  find  out  when  we 
go  over  it — the  stock  is  cheap  at  fifty,  and  the  coal  lands 
should  not  be  expensive  in  their  present  undeveloped 
state ;  probably  you  can  buy  them  for  the  price  of  the 
timber  on  them."  He  paused.  "But,  of  course,  al 
ways  provided  your  father  takes  over  this  road  and 
improves  it." 

"If  he  gets  it  he'll  improve  it;  and  he'll  get  it." 

"Well,  we'll  bet  on  it,  anyhow." 

"It  will  be  a  big  job,"  said  Sam,  impressed  by  the 
work  once  more. 

"Sure,  it's  a  big  job.  Aren't  you  looking  for  one,  or 
do  you  sigh  for  cold  feet?"  retorted  Darrell. 

Sam  did  not  answer.  He  was  thinking  of  what  one 
man  might  do  to  accomplish  it,  to  work  this  miracle. 
It  would  take  money — millions — and  a  master  spirit 
to  direct  the  work.  It  was  beyond  his  powers  now, 
for  his  ignorance  was  illimitable.  He  must  take  one 
step  at  a  time.  He  would  learn  many  things;  his 

201 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

father  would  help  him.  One  step  at  a  time.  The  first 
was  to  buy  the  Austin  Iron  Company.  After  that, 
Robinson's  stock.  And  Fanny.  .  .  . 

They  drove  to  the  works  in  a  rickety  station-hack 
over  streets  of  red  mud.  Again  the  unprosperous  as 
pect  of  the  country  made  it  difficult  to  see  the  inspir- 
ingly  rapid  transformation  Sam  desired.  Darrell  trans 
lated  Sam's  silence  and  answered  it  as  they  entered 
the  company's  property: 

"What  did  you  expect?  Marble  palaces,  open 
plumbing,  hot  and  cold  water  and  valet  attendance 
free?"  He  took  in  the  building  and  the  furnaces, 
glancing  everywhither,  marking  less  the  probable  act 
ualities  than  the  possibilities.  At  length  he  turned 
to  Sam  and  smiled  cheerfully:  "Brace  up,  kid,  your 
father's  a  wonder  and  a  half."  Sam  looked  a  question, 
and  Darrell  said:  "This  place  was  made  for  Sampson 
Rock,  Jr.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  make  your  Dad 
give  you  good  transportation  and  you  put  in  some 
money  and  some  brains — you  can  always  hire  them — 
and  then  sit  back  and  let  the  dough  pile  up.  But  wait 
till  we've  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  superintendent. 
He  may  be  willing  to  talk." 

"You  can't  be  sure  of  the  real  value  of  the  company 
yet,"  said  Sam,  challengingly. 

"No;  but  in  two  hours  I'll  know  whether  we  are 
losing  time  or  not.  I'm  no  iron  man.  J.  A.  Darrell  is 
not  the  boy  I'd  pick  out  for  the  proud  job  of  main 
cheese  here,  but  before  I  separate  myself  from  six  cents 
I'll  know  what  I'm  paying  for.  You  can  now  go  to 
sleep,  my  bonnie  child." 

They  introduced  themselves  to  the  manager  of  the 
works,  Mr.  Fletcher,  as  Northern  tourists,  and  sought 
permission  to  go  over  the  plant,  which  they  understood 

202 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

was  the  best  in  Virginia.  They  were  intelligent  and 
well-informed  men  who  wore  the  clothes  of  well-to-do 
New-Yorkers.  The  little  manager  thereupon  became 
very  cordial.  The  more  well-to-do  people  who  knew 
him  and  his  great  abilities  the  better  it  pleased  him; 
for  who  could  limit  the  vagaries  of  fortune's  lightning? 

Fortune  had  been  indeed  kind  to  Sam,  for  Fletcher 
was  one  of  those  men  whose  tutelary  deities  are  vanity 
and  wealth.  His  hobby  was  Versatility,  a  legitimate 
enough  offspring  of  the  deities,  for  he  regarded  Ver 
satility  as  the  sign-patent  of  brains;  and  with  brains 
and  the  fame  thereof  what  couldn't  a  man  do?  He 
would  put  on  overalls  and  repair  an  engine  himself  for 
the  mere  pleasure  it  gave  him  to  be  a  Chesterfield  even 
while  greasy;  and  an  hour  later  entertain  American 
royalty  at  dinner,  and  be  more  courtly  than  any  Eu 
ropean  king.  Everywhere,  in  everything,  thoroughly 
at  home,  and  very  decidedly  looking  it.  He  desired 
money  ardently,  but  it  was  less  for  the  money  itself 
than  for  the  conviction  that  it  would  enable  him  to 
do  great  things  before  the  applauding  audience  that 
always  attends  the  very  rich.  He  was,  indeed,  what  is 
called  a  naturally  handy  man,  with  a  decided  mechani 
cal  bent  and  very  practical  in  most  things;  yet,  an  in 
veterate  dreamer,  incessantly  stupefying  himself  with 
delectable  visions  as  with  the  fumes  of  opium. 

Darrell  soon  learned  that  he  knew  several  of  Fletcher's 
professional  acquaintances  and  he  rose  in  the  versatil 
ity-mad  little  manager's  estimation.  But  Sam  soared 
infinitely  higher.  Fletcher  happened  to  speak  of  Mr. 
Beekman  Stuyvesant  3d,  of  the  famous  New  York 
family,  as  "young  Stuyvesant,"  with  an  irrepressible 
air  of  bravado  at  leaving  off  the  servile,  money- 
worshiping  "Mister."  Sam  remarked  casually  that 

14  2°3 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"  Beekie  "  was  a  well-meaning  little  chap.  Mr.  Fletcher 
acted  as  though  he  had  social  aspirations  in  the  me 
tropolis.  He  had  been  in  New  York  several  times  and 
had  stopped  at  the  Waldorf  twice.  All  Austin  knew  it. 

Sam  asked  few  questions,  but  he  listened  so  atten 
tively  that  the  little  manager  spoke  of  his  mines  and 
furnaces  very  eloquently  and  of  the  Virginia  Central 
most  emphatically.  That  infernal  tinpot  railway  alone 
had  prevented  him  from  making  Austin  the  Pittsburg 
of  the  South  and  himself  Andrew  Carnegie  II. 

"This  country  is  full  of  such  things,"  commiserated 
Darrell,  his  eyes  on  the  furnaces.  ' '  Everybody  stacks  up 
against  a  game  calling  for  time,  money,  and  patience." 

Fletcher  laughed,  with  an  undercurrent  of  seriousness 
to  show,  synchronously,  his  sense  of  humor  and  his 
modesty.  He  then  decided  to  be  epigrammatic,  after 
having  been  a  handicapped  maker  of  Pittsburgs: 

"Time  flies;  money  passes  us  by,  and  as  for  patience, 
it  isn't  in  you  when  you  are  under  thirty. "  He  smiled. 
He  was  thirty-five ;  but  these  men  did  not  know  it ;  but 
they  probably  knew  that  Napoleon  had  done  a  great 
deal  before  he  was  thirty.  Fletcher  looked  at  Sam 
for  certain  encouragement  and  Sam  smiled  back.  He 
was  twenty-five,  and  he  had  no  patience,  and  he  wanted 
to  outrace  time,  and  he  would  get  the  money.  He 
said: 

"But  you  pay  dividends,  don't  you?" 

"They  paid  nothing  when  I  came,  eighteen  months 
ago,  but  last  January  we  paid  two  per  cent.  If  the 
company  had  only  given  me  what  I  asked  for,  I'd  have 
paid  twenty  per  cent." 

"You've  done  wonders,  considering  the  old  machin 
ery  and  your  handicaps  in  handling  the  raw  material," 
said  Darrell,  admiringly. 

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SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"I've  told  them  that — "  began  Fletcher,  self-defen- 
sively. 

"But  after  all,"  continued  Darrell,  "it  would  have 
been  throwing  away  money  here,  so  long  as  the  rail 
road  couldn't  handle  your  stuff  on  a  big  scale." 

"I'd  make  the  railroad  do  better!"  asserted  Fletcher 
so  determinedly  that  he  looked  like  five  feet  four  inches 
of  omnipotence.  There  was  really  a  suggestion  of  pow 
er  in  his  look.  It  made  Sam  ask: 

"All  you  need  is  capital  to  enlarge  your  plant?" 

"That's  all."  Mr.  Fletcher  knew  what  Mr.  Fletcher 
could  do. 

"Well,  Mr.  Fletcher,"  said  Sam  with  quick  decision, 
"if  you  can  show  me  how  you  can  make  the  money 
you  need  here  pay  twenty  per  cent,  I'll  back  you  for 
any  amount  you  say."  And  he  looked  curiously  at 
Fletcher,  trying  to  determine  whether  the  little  man 
ager's  air  of  corked-up  energy  came  from  real  power  or 
from  sheer  emptiness. 

"Iron  is  an  uncertain  thing,  Sam,"  cautioned  Darrell, 
paternally. 

"I  can  do  it,"  said  Fletcher,  defiantly.  Of  course, 
the  twenty  per  cent,  was  a  figure  of  speech.  Figures 
do  not  lie. 

"Who  owns  the  controlling  interest?"  pursued  Sam, 
briskly. 

Fletcher  had  more  than  once  yearned  for  such  a  man 
to  express  such  a  desire — yearned  for  him  and  for  it 
with  an  enthusiasm  heated  to  incandescence  in  the 
forge  of  his  imagination.  Often  he  had  succeeded  in 
arousing  enthusiasm  almost  as  hot  in  people  who  had 
no  capital — people  who,  unrebuked,  regarded  him  as  a 
capitalist!  He  had  seen  those  greed-bitten  listeners 
sigh  regretfully  that  they  did  not  own  millions  to  place 

205 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

unreservedly  in  Mr.  Fletcher's  wizard  hands,  for  in 
building  the  model  iron-plant  of  the  South  Mr.  Fletcher 
had  also  created  untold  wealth  for  his  friends  and 
followers.  It  had  been  one  of  his  pet  hopes.  After 
all,  it  was  not  very  expensive  to  make  a  great  fortune 
in  dreams,  which  glittered  infinitely  more  goldenly  for 
being  dream -built.  He  saw  himself  rich,  powerful, 
admired — a  captain  of  industry,  a  political  dictator,  a 
patron  of  the  fine  arts,  an  engineer,  a  social  lion,  and 
an  erotic  poet.  Rockefeller  turned  green,  Beau  Brum- 
mel  double-locked  his  grave,  and  Shakespeare  sighed: 
"What's  the  use?" 

"The  control,"  said  Fletcher  in  an  impressively  mat 
ter-of-fact  way,  "is  not  held  by  any  one  man,  but  is 
scattered.  Half  a  million  cash  would  get  it."  He  pre 
ferred  the  contemptuous  "half  a  million  cash"  to  the 
less  humble  "five  hundred  thousand  dollars."  Sam 
looked  so  interested  that  the  little  manager  added: 
"You  get  up  your  syndicate  and  I'll  do  the  rest.  We 
could  do  wonders  here  with  money."  He  looked  to  see 
what  effect  the  last  plural  would  have  on  the  young  man. 

"The  last  quotation  of  the  stock  I  saw,"  said  Sam, 
musingly,  "was  thirty-five  dollars  a  share.  Even  at 
forty  dollars,  it  would  only  be  four  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  fifty-one  per  cent,  of  the  stock." 

It  was  evident  the  young  man  was  not  as  ignorant  as 
he  looked.  But  Fletcher  gave  his  surprise  no  time  to 
grow  into  a  suspicion.  He  said,  quickly:  "It  would 
be  worth  twice  as  much  after  we  got  the  control  and 
planned  to  increase  the  plant."  He  could  see  no  harm 
in  persistently  pluralizing. 

"It  wouldn't  improve  your  pig-iron  any  to  stack  it  up 
and  accumulate  rust  until  the  Virginia  Central  began  to 
think  of  moving  it  year  after  next,"  said  Darrell. 

206 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"That's  all  right,"  retorted  Fletcher.  "They 
wouldn't  earn  fixed  charges  if  they  didn't  move  freight 
that  dropped  from  Heaven." 

"Do  you  want  to  do  business  with  us,  Mr.  Fletcher?" 
asked  Sam,  abruptly. 

"I'm  not  here  for  the  benefit  of  my  health  alone," 
smiled  Fletcher. 

"Very  well,  if  you  can  get  me  sixty  per  cent,  of  the 
stock  of  this  company — "  Sam  paused. 

"I  can  get  it." 

"I'll  pay  half  a  million  dollars  for  it."  Sam  said  this 
so  calmly  that  Fletcher's  soul  began  to  shake  with  the 
gold-ague. 

"I  can  handle  my  end  of  this  deal." — And  Fletcher 
looked  challengingly  at  first  at  Sam,  then  at  the  less 
enthusiastic  Darrell. 

"My  dear  sir,"  laughed  Sam,  "anybody  can  raise 
money  for  a  profitable  undertaking.  It's  finding  the 
opportunity  that's  not  easy." 

"You've  found  it  right  here." — And  Fletcher  nodded 
twice. 

"You  get  an  option  on  the  stock  and  we'll  take  the 
stock  from  you  at  the  price  I  named."  Sam  looked 
like  a  business  man.  It  was  his  youth  that  made  him 
try  to  look  like  one. 

"Supposing  we  look  over  the  plant  more  carefully 
and  take  a  peep  at  the  cost-sheets?"  suggested  Darrell. 

Instantly  Fletcher  became  sober.  He  had  been 
femininely  certain  he  could  secure  and  sell  fifty-five 
or  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  capital  stock  for  the  five  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  at  a  handsome  profit — certain 
because  he  had  wished  it.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
was  not  sure  he  could  buy  even  thirty  per  cent.  More 
over,  strangers  did  not  go  about  flinging  half  millions 

207 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

right  and  left.  If  the  young  New-Yorker  thought  he 
was  investing  his  money  at  twenty  per  cent,  interest, 
it  would  take  some  figuring  to  prove  it.  But  it  was 
easier  to  figure  on  prospective  profits  than  on  past  re 
turns.  Who  could  deny  that  another  million  spent  on 
this  plant  might  not  yield  a  yearly  income  almost  as 
big  as  Fletcher  had  hastily  promised  ?  At  all  events, 
just  now,  Fletcher  stood  to  lose  an  hour  or  two  and 
nothing  more. 

"I'll  show  you  over  the  works,  anyhow,"  he  told 
them,  with  a  tinge  of  reserve.  They  inspected  the 
blast-furnaces  and  later  they  drove  to  the  iron  mines. 
They  also  studied  the  maps  of  the  coal-lands  and  the 
limestone  quarries.  It  really  was  as  Sampson  Rock 
had  told  Sam — a  vast  unutilized  possibility  of  profit,  an 
exceptional  combination  of  money-making  factors  such 
as  nature  sometimes  throws  in  the  way  of  captains  of 
industry. 

Darrell  found  occasion  to  say  to  Sam: 

"If  your  father  gets  the  Virginia  Central  he'll  own 
this  property  as  sure  as  fate.  It  wouldn't  take  much 
money  to  make  it  pay  pretty  well  and  he'd  make  some 
thing  on  the  railroad  end  of  it,  too." 

"He'll  get  the  Virginia  Central — with  my  help.  Do 
you  think  Fletcher  is  the  man  to  get  the  stock  for  us  ?" 

"Do  you?"  asked  Darrell,  curiously. 

"I  think  so.  It  will  be  to  his  interest;  he  knows 
everybody  and  he  doesn't  know  what  my  father  is 
doing.  Is  the  property  worth  the  price?" 

"Yes,  if  the  railroad  gets  a  hustle  on  and  is  friendly. 
Of  course,  lots  of  machinery  here  is  gravitating  towards 
the  scrap-heap,  but  they've  got  all  the  decent  ore 
cinched.  It's  a  special  iron,  and  they  ought  to  sell  ten 
times  more  than  they  do.  Personally,  I  think  the  iron 

208 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

boom  is  here  to  stay  for  a  few  years,  and  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year  profit  is  a  big  return  on  what 
you'll  need  to  spend.  Of  course,  Sam,  I  can't  get  it 
down  fine  by  a  glance  of  my  eagle  eye,  but — " 

"Is  half  a  million  for  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  stock  a 
fair  bet?"  interrupted  Sam. 

"Yes;  to  a  man  of  your  father's  means.  Tell 
Fletcher  to  get  six  months'  options  and  you'll  pay  ten 
per  cent,  cash." 

"Very  well,"  said  Sam.     It  was  enough  to  know. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  sitting  in  the  manager's 
private  office  that  Fletcher's  hopes  began  to  take  on 
substance — that  is,  when  Darrell  began  to  ask  questions 
too  intelligent  for  ignorant  tourists,  or  for  impostors 
masquerading  as  capitalists.  Why  these  men  should 
so  suddenly  desire  to  buy  this  property  was  enough  to 
arouse  suspicions,  and  the  doubts  overcame  the  hopes 
enough  to  make  Fletcher  look  coldly  at  the  Westerner 
and  say: 

"That's  all  very  well.  Some  of  these  questions  I 
can't  answer.  I  don't  know  you.  Don't  misun 
derstand  me,"  he  explained,  with  a  benevolent,  of 
fence-removing  smile.  "I  know  you  to  be  a  gentle 
man,  but  I  don't  know  how  serious  your  intentions  are, 
and  neither  do  I  know  whether  I'm  giving  away  valu 
able  information  to  possible  competitors." 

"You  are  giving  away  nothing,"  said  Sam.  "We 
expect  to  pay  for  everything  we  get."  Fletcher  stif 
fened  perceptibly.  Sam  liked  him  for  it,  and  added, 
amiably:  "My  dear  chap,  we  are  not  experts  in  dis 
guise.  As  for  knowing  us,  we  don't  know  you,  and 
yet  we  are  taking  you  at  your  own  valuation.  I  think 
you  are  right,  and  that  with  more  capital  this  property 
ought  to  do  much  better  than  it  has.  I'm  willing  to 

209 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

gamble  on  it.  If  you  get  twelve  thousand  shares  for 
me  for  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  I'll  take  it.  You 
ought  to  be  able  to  get  it  and  make  a  profit.  Unless  I 
have  my  own  way,  I  won't  bother  with  it.  That's  why 
I  want  the  majority  of  the  stock.  You  ought  to  get 
options  on  the  stock.  I'll  pay  ten  per  cent,  cash  and 
the  balance  in  six  months.  But  unless  you  are  sure  you 
can  get  the  majority  of  the  stock,  there  is  no  use  to  both 
er  any  further."  Sam  looked  frankly  at  the  manager. 

Fletcher  answered  politely,  but  without  enthusiasm: 
"It  will  be  hard  work  to  get  sixty  per  cent,  at  the  price 
you've  fixed." 

"You  were  sure  you  could  get  it  a  moment  ago." 

"I'm  sure  of  it  still.  But  it  will  take  a  lot  of  time 
and  trouble." 

"Well,  figure  out  whether  it  can  be  done."  Sam 
desired  the  iron  company  more  than  ever.  An  echo 
of  some  aphorism  of  his  father's  came  to  him.  He 
said,  gently:  "In  working  for  me,  Mr.  Fletcher,  you 
will  be  working  for  yourself.  You  are  going  to  identi 
fy  yourself  with  a  big  work,  a  successful  work.  You 
mustn't  imagine  that  I  merely  promise.  I  will  give 
you  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  cash  the  moment 
you  have  the  options  safe.  And  if  you  can  get  more 
than  the  sixty  per  cent.,  I'll  buy  it  from  you  at  forty 
dollars  a  share.  The  stock  is  now  around  thirty-five, 
and  if  you  can — " 

"You  only  need  fifty-one  per  cent.,  Sam,"  cut  in 
Darrell.  ' '  What's  the  use  of—' ' 

"Never  mind.  I'll  take  all  Mr.  Fletcher  can  get 
over  the  bare  majority." 

"It  sounds  attractive,"  admitted  Fletcher.  He  said 
it  in  a  way  that  showed  he  had  a  hint  in  mind.  "You 
don't  know  what  a  task  it  will  be — " 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"We  think  it's  twenty-five  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  task.  That's  more  than  I  can  make  in  a  week,"  said 
Darrell,  impatiently. 

"It  isn't  a  matter  of  a  week.  And,  besides,  for  me 
to  give  you  the  confidential  information  you  desire 
does  not  seem  altogether  fair  to — " 

"Don't  do  anything  you  think  unfair,"  interrupted 
Sam,  frowning. 

"What  we  yearn  for  is  the  chance  to  buy  a  pig  in  a 
poke.  I'm  losing  sleep  looking  for  the  chance."  Dar 
rell  looked  particularly  wide  awake  as  he  said  this. 

"Then  you'd  better — "  began  Fletcher,  in  an  offend 
ed  tone. 

"Oh,  be  sensible!"  said  Darrell.  "There  are  brokers 
in  Richmond  who  can  buy  the  stock  for  us  if  we  want 
it,  after  we  get  the  information  elsewhere." 

"They  couldn't  buy  the  control,  not  at  any  such 
price,  nor  at  any  price."  Fletcher  spoke  a  trifle  super 
ciliously. 

"Mr.  Fletcher,"  said  Sam,  whom  this  exchange  of 
words  was  beginning  to  annoy,  "understand  this  once 
for  all.  If  I  want  the  stock,  I'll  get  it.  I'm  giving  you 
a  chance  to  work  for  me.  If  you  don't  take  it,  I'll  get 
somebody  else  to  get  what  I  want.  It's  a  family  trait 
of  ours.  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  ever  heard 
of  my  father?" 

"I  think  I  have,"  answered  Fletcher,  politely  pre 
varicating.  But  the  young  man's  words  suggested  an 
obvious  explanation  for  his  reckless  business  methods. 
There  were  fond  fathers  who  had  millions  and  who 
often  backed  their  sons'  plunges. 

"That  being  the  case,  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  my 
not  doing  whatever  I  say  I'll  do.  That's  what  we  call 
in  New  York  a  friendly  tip  to  you,  Mr.  Fletcher."  It 

211 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

was  the  way  in  which  Sam  spoke  that  made  Darrell 
look  at  him  admiringly. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Fletcher,  frowning,  as  if  to  recol 
lect  the  exact  time  and  place  of  his  meeting  with  Mr. 
Rock,  Sr.  "Your  father  is  now — " 

"He  is  now  in  New  York,"  answered  Sam. 

"Where  he's  always  been,  and  where  he  will  continue 
to  be  whether  his  son  buys  your  picayune  works  or  not," 
supplemented  Darrell,  impatiently. 

"You  seem  anxious  enough  to  pick  up  any  stray 
picayunes,"  said  Fletcher,  sarcastically. 

Darrell  felt  sure  that  the  little  manager  had  not 
"placed"  Sam's  father.  Since  Sam  had  spoken  about 
it,  Fletcher  might  as  well  be  told.  He  assented,  amia 
bly: 

"We  are,  my  dear  fellow.  It's  not  picayune  to  us, 
but  it  really  is  to  Sampson  Rock.  His  son  has  more 
time  to  pick  up  the  pennies." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Fletcher,  involuntarily.  A  spasm 
of  fright  passed  over  his  face  at  the  narrow  escape. 
Almost  he  had  failed  to  heed  Fortune's  thundering 
knock  at  his  door!  He  had  not  connected  young  Rock 
with  the  great  Sampson  Rock.  But  now  everything 
that  young  Rock  had  said  appeared  in  its  true  colors — 
no  longer  an  idle  whim,  but  a  masterpiece  of  wisdom 
tinted  with  the  superb  nonchalance  natural  in  the  son 
of  such  a  man.  He  recovered  very  quickly,  and  said, 
deferentially: 

"Oh,  I  never  doubted  your  ability  to  do  what  you 
said,  Mr.  Rock.  But  I  felt  that  you  did  not  know  me, 
and  you  might  think  what  I  told  you  for  the  mere 
asking  I'd  tell  any  stranger  who  happened  to  stroll  in. 
I  wanted  you  to  understand  that  I'm  faithful  to  my 
employers,  no  matter  wljat  I  may  lose  in  the  way  of 

212 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

outside  money."  From  that  moment  he  relegated 
Darrell  to  the  nineteenth  place. 

Sam  perceived  the  change  in  the  manager's  manner, 
and  felt  sure  that  the  battle  was  won.  The  struggle 
had  not  been  particularly  strenuous,  though  it  might 
have  become  more  exciting  but  for  the  casual  mention 
of  Sampson  Rock's  name.  Before  the  dazzle  of  his 
father's  prestige,  this  man,  who  had  been  full  of  doubts 
and  suspicions,  and  permitted  himself  to  be  irritated 
by  DarreH's  more  or  less  natural  questions,  now  looked 
as  if  to  be  the  slave  of  Sampson  Rock's  son  was  to  live 
in  heaven. 

Marvellous  power  of  a  name! 

He  looked  at  Fletcher,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  almost 
hypnotically  on  Sam's.  There  was  nothing  Fletcher 
could  not  do  for  this  pleasant  young  man  who  no  longer 
was  an  idle,  sight-seeing  tourist,  but  a  bringer  of  cash 
and  opportunity,  a  benevolent  magician  who  carried  in 
one  hand  the  trumpet  of  fame  and  in  the  other  the 
fairy  wand  that  transformed  golden  dreams  into  clink 
ing  realities. 

"We  might  settle  Mr.  Darrell's  doubts  and  gratify 
his  curiosity,  Mr.  Fletcher,"  suggested  Sam,  amiably, 
and  Fletcher  quickly  answered,  "Certainly,  Mr.  Rock." 

Until  a  late  hour  they  sat  that  night,  Darrell  asking 
questions  and  Fletcher  answering  them  unhesitatingly, 
studying  analyses  of  ores  and  reports  of  the  company's 
mineral  and  timber  lands,  poring  over  the  statistics  of 
cost,  production,  and  sales,  until  Darrell  said: 

"It's  all  right,  Sam,  provided  the  railroad  will  do 
its  share.  At  present  it  has  neither  motive-power  nor 
rolling-stock  enough  to  handle  any  increase  in  our 
business  here." 

At  Darrell's  assumption  that  they  were  already  in 
213 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

control,  Fletcher's  hopes  became  solid.  In  the  process 
of  metamorphosis  whereby  the  hopes  took  on  the  shape 
of  coins,  the  manager's  alert  mind  began  to  throw  out 
the  grappling-irons  of  sundry  other  profitable  schemes, 
a  luxury  he  had  not  hitherto  permitted  himself,  as 
being  beyond  even  the  dreaming  stage.  Profit  piled 
itself  on  profit  automatically,  and  the  golden  mountain- 
top  dented  the  rosy  clouds.  He  must  do  all  in  his 
power  to  secure  control  of  the  Austin  Iron  Company  to 
these  Heaven-sent  friends.  Much  of  the  stock  was  held 
by  people  who  would  have  sold  out  in  disgust  long 
before  but  for  Fletcher's  earnest  entreaties  and  prom 
ises  of  much  better  returns  in  the  future.  In  now 
advising  the  same  people  to  sell  out,  he  must  undo  his 
own  work.  How  many  shares  he  could  get  he  did  not 
know  even  approximately,  but,  as  he  thought  about  it, 
the  number  grew,  for  this  opportunity  wore  golden  spurs, 
and  he  felt  the  prick  of  them  in  his  soul.  In  order  to 
discourage  over-optimistic  holders  whose  annoying  faith 
in  Austin's  future  had  been  strengthened  by  that  year's 
unfortunate  dividend,  it  was  obvious  that  the  company 
must  make  a  bad  showing — that  there  might  be  no  ill- 
feeling,  no  more  dividends,  no  more  desire  to  hold  the 
stock.  Mathematics  is  one  of  the  exact  sciences.  So 
is  greed. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  the  railroad,"  Fletcher  told 
Sam.  "Of  course,  they'll  do  better  by  us  when  we 
have  more  tonnage  to  give  and  are  prompter  in  paying 
our  bills.  We've  never  had  working  capital  enough, 
and  we've  often  had  to  close  down  for  repairs  in  the 
middle  of  a  busy  season.  All  I  am  worrying  about  is 
to  get  the  stock  you  want  for  the  price  you  are  willing 
to  pay." 

"It's  a  good  price,"  said  Darrell,  shortly. 

214 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"The  ore  lands  alone  are  worth  ten  times  more,  and 
there  are  eighteen  hundred  acres  more  that  never  have 
been  prospected,"  retorted  Fletcher,  loyally.  "I've 
got  the  best — " 

"I  know,"  said  Darrell.  "But  what  about  the 
stock?" 

"I  think,  if  anybody  oan  get  it,  I  can." 

Sam  looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  say  something, 
but  changed  his  mind  and  was  silent.  Fletcher  as 
sumed  that  young  Mr.  Rock  doubted  his  ability  to 
make  a  majority  of  the  stockholders  dispose  of  their 
shares,  and  he  went  on:  "I  can  make  them  sell.  My 
report  must  be  turned  in  next  week.  You  know  the 
annual  meeting  will  be  held  in  Richmond  early  next 
month.  I  have  an  idea  that,  after  reading  it,  they 
will  fall  all  over  themselves  in  the  scramble  to  get 
out."  He  did  not  look  particularly  villanous  nor,  in 
deed,  over-complacent.  He  was  very  much  in  earnest. 

Sam,  who  again  had  been  visioning  to  himself  a 
great  and  good  work  here,  was  hurled  to  the  earth  of 
the  ticker  and  disagreeably  jolted.  A  Spanish  proverb 
came  to  him — "People  boil  beans  the  world  over." 
When  business  consisted  of  wanting  to  buy  something 
that  other  people  had  to  sell,  the  buyers,  whether  in 
Wall  Street  or  Virginia,  instinctively  boiled  the  same 
kind  of  beans  in  the  same  kind  of  water,  and  the  water 
boiled  at  212°  F.  He  was  willing  to  pay  a  fair  price, 
more  than  the  market-price,  and  it  was  not  a  manipu 
lated  nor  fictitious  market-price.  Yet  there  must  be 
deceit.  It  filled  him  with  a  sort  of  impatient  disgust. 

"Mr.  Fletcher,"  he  said,  "I  don't  care  to— 

"Why,  you  ought  not  only  to  get  the  stock,  but  to 
make  a  nice  little  thing  out  of  it,"  put  in  Darrell,  very 
quickly.  Sam  was  certain  his  friend  had  spoken  in 

215 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

order  to  check  words  that  conceivably  might  have 
made  the  deal  impossible;  for  Fletcher,  if  angered, 
had  merely  to  tell  the  stockholders  that  Sampson 
Rock's  son  wanted  to  buy  the  control.  Dynamite 
wouldn't  budge  them  after  that,  unless  it  was  the  kind 
that  his  father  used,  which  was  the  kind  Sam  did  not 
like.  This  deal  meant  work  to  come,  good  work,  big 
work.  The  Austin  Iron  Company  had  to  be  bought. 
Too  much  depended  on  it. 

Fletcher  answered  Darrell: 

"I  don't  expect  to  make  anything  on  the  options. 
Some  of  the  stock  will  cost  less,  but  some  will  cost 
more.  I'll  consider  myself  lucky  if  the  block  you  need 
averages  under  forty-two.  And  I  was  not  thinking  of 
my  commission.  I  want  you  to  get  the  control  of  this 
company  because  I  feel  my  future  will  be  safe  in  your 
hands,  and,  therefore,  I'll  see  that  you  get  the  stock." 
He  leered  ingratiatingly  at  the  New-Yorkers. 

The  leer,  with  its  suggestion  of  a  summer-hotel 
waiter's  confidence  in  a  well-served  patron's  generosity, 
exasperated  Sam  even  more  than  the  willingness  to  do 
dirty  work  for  money  had  done.  Indifferent  to  what 
it  meant  for  the  deal  to  miscarry  at  this  stage,  he  said, 
angrily: 

"You  might  as  well  understand  right  now  and  here 
that  I  won't  do  business  that  way." 

"Oh!"  smiled  Fletcher,  still  misunderstanding  Sam's 
youthful  impatience.  "I've  studied  men,  and  I  know 
I  won't  suffer  if  I  leave  the  value  of  my  services  to 
you." 

"Mr.  Fletcher,"  said  Sam,  decisively,  "I  wouldn't 
give  you  a  cent — " 

"Not  one  cent  over  the  half  million  for  the  sixty  per 
cent,  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  commission  for 

216 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

you,"  interjected  Darrell,  quickly,  as  though  he  were 
finishing  Sam's  sentence.  "It's  enough.  You  can 
take  it  or  leave  it," 

"Jack  " — Sam  turned  to  Darrell  with  a  frown — "you 
must  not — " 

"No,"  said  Darrell  to  Fletcher,  "that's  the  limit. 
Now  let  me  look  again  at  these  blue-prints  of  the 
proposed — " 

As  the  manager  rose  quickly  to  comply  with  Dar- 
rell's  request,  the  Westerner  whispered  to  Sam,  fiercely: 

"Hold  your  horses,  will  you?" 

And  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  held  his  horses  —  that  is, 
his  tongue.  He  was  annoyed  at  being  forced  to  con 
trol  his  feelings  by  the  importance  of  this  deal,  not  in 
its  financial  aspect,  but  in  its  bearing  on  his  future 
manner  of  life.  Rather  than  self-disgust,  it  was  a  sort 
of  irritation.  But  he  would  not  tolerate  any  under 
handed  methods,  nevertheless. 

It  is  the  first  step  that  is  difficult.  But  when  it  is 
down-stairs  it  seldom  strains  the  leg  muscles. 

"Mr.  Rock,"  said  Fletcher,  laying  before  Darrell  the 
blue-prints  of  the  projected  record-breaking  blast-fur 
naces — another  dream  of  his  which  he  had  elaborated 
to  the  point  of  complete  plans  and  specifications — "I'll 
treble  the  value  of  this  plant  with  a  little  capital. 
Nothing  but  the  boom  in  the  trade  enabled  us  to  pay 
that  two  per  cent,  dividend  last  January.  Now,  if  I 
report  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  which  is 
all  I  am  supposed  to  do,  it  will  make  them  shiver  when 
they  realize  how  precarious  the  dividends  are.  I  don't 
have  to  lie.  I  wouldn't  do  it,  not  for  the  presidency  of 
the  Steel  Trust.  I've  told  them  what  I've  told  you 
dozens  of  times,  till  they  dodge  when  they  see  me 
coming.  I  won't  tell  them  any  more." 

217 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

"Were  you  going  to  tell  the  truth  in  the  report?" 

11 1  was  going  to  tell  them  that,  if  I  had  had  my  way, 
they  wouldn't  have  received  that  two  per  cent,  dividend. 
I  wanted  the  money  for  improvements.  But  the  com 
pany  had  money  in  the  bank  and  owed  little,  and  they 
went  crazy  when  they  saw  a  profit  after  so  many 
hungry  years.  If  I  hadn't  given  in  to  the  clamor  for 
a  dividend  I'd  have  lost  my  job." 

"And  now  you've  decided  on  complete  and  de 
tailed  veracity  because  — "  The  slight  sneer  on 
Sam's  lips  was  as  a  subtle  solace  to  his  own  stifled 
virtue. 

"Because  now,  if  you  will  do  as  you  say,  it  will  be 
possible  to  do  the  work  that  ought  to  be  done  here. 
Austin  iron  is  the  best  foundry-iron  in  the  world,  and 
it  ought  to  be  known  as  such,  and  it  ought  to  bring  a 
corresponding  price.  With  enough  working  capital, 
we  can  sell  all  we  can  make,  and  we  can  deliver  when 
and  as  we  promise.  If  the  present  stockholders  won't 
do  it  they  must  step  out  of  the  way  and  let  somebody 
else  try.  It's  got  to  be  done  sooner  or  later;  and  the 
sooner  the  better,  for  I'm  not  growing  any  younger. 
That's  the  way  I  feel." 

Sampson  Rock's  argument  1  The  sincerity  that  rang 
in  the  little  manager's  voice  impressed  Sam,  but  before 
he  could  say  anything,  Darrell  and  Fletcher  were  at  it 
again,  until,  at  midnight,  Darrell  rose  and  said:  "We'll 
advance  you  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  for  prelimi 
nary  expenses.  Of  the  total  twenty  thousand  shares 
you  must  get  options  on  at  least  twelve  thousand. 
We  won't  buy  a  share  outright  until  we  are  sure  we 
can  get  the  majority.  It's  against  my  principles  to 
bid  up  prices  on  myself.  Moreover,  we  have  to  con 
sider  the  additional  capital  that  must  be  raised.  Don't 

218 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

use  a  brass-band  while  you  are  getting  the  options,  and 
keep  our  names  out  of  it." 

Sam  said  nothing. 

"And  my  commission — " 

"Twenty-five  thousand  dollars  cash,  as  soon  as  you 
have  the  options  safe;  the  difference  in  the  price  you 
pay  and  the  one  we  offer  you  will  be  your  additional 
profit.  But  don't  be  a  hog.  Get  the  stock.  We'll 
let  you  in  for  a  block  of  whatever  new  securities  we  may 
issue  at  the  same  price  we  pay,  and  we'll  carry  it  for 
you  for  two  years,  at  six  per  cent,  interest.  Don't  have 
to  take  it  if  you  don't  wish  to.  Your  future  salary  and 
position  we  shall  leave  for  future  discussion,  after  we 
are  in  control.  If  this  isn't  satisfactory,  say  so  now.  We 
don't  want  to  waste  any  more  time  over  the  matter." 

"It's  satisfactory,"  said  Fletcher,  after  a  pause. 
It  was  not,  quite.  Reality  seldom  equals  vague  an 
ticipation.  There  were  one  or  two  things  he  had 
neglected  to  mention,  as,  for  instance,  that  the  cost  of 
materials  had  gone  up  since  he  made  his  estimates  on 
the  cost  of  the  improvements.  But  that  was  the  New- 
Yorkers'  lookout.  Mr.  Fletcher  was  looking  out  for 
Mr.  Fletcher.  Therefore,  Mr.  Fletcher  asked  for  some 
written  trifle,  a  memorandum,  to  avoid  misunderstand 
ings  later. 

"You'll  get  it  to-morrow.  In  the  mean  time,  Sam, 
give  Mr.  Fletcher  twenty-five  hundred  dollars." 

Sam  silently  took  the  money  from  his  wallet  and 
handed  it  to  the  little  manager.  Fletcher,  ostenta 
tiously  not  counting  it,  carelessly  put  it  in  his  vest- 
pocket.  Then  he  extended  his  hand  to  Sam.  Sam 
took  it  and  smiled,  when  the  manager  said: 

"I  hope  you'll  find  this  a  profitable  venture,  Mr. 
Rock;  I  know  you  will." 

15  219 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Sam,  quietly.  "Good-night, 
Mr.  Fletcher." 

Early  the  next  day  Darrell  and  Fletcher  again  went 
over  sundry  details,  and  the  little  manager  received  his 
written  trifle — an  agreement  to  pay  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  for  twelve  thousand  shares  of  Austin  Iron 
Company  stock,  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  receiving  the 
options  and  the  balance  ninety  days  later,  Mr.  Fletch 
er's  commission  to  be  twenty -five  thousand  dollars. 
Then  Darrell  and  Sam  went  to  look  at  coal  lands.  The 
Austin  Iron  Company's  coal  -  mines  were  more  than 
enough  for  its  wants,  but  Darrell  thought  it  well  to 
pick  up  any  other  bargains  there  might  be  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  He  told  Sam: 

"We  can  form  a  subsidiary  company  with  a  capital 
stock  big  enough  to — " 

"You  ought  to  stay  in  Wall  Street!"  laughed  Sam. 

But  when  they  casually  broached  the  subject  of  op 
tions  on  coal  lands  to  the  owners  thereof,  they  learned 
that  a  Mr.  Morson,  a  Northern  gentleman  of  nice 
manners,  resistless  energy,  and  some  ready  cash,  had  a 
few  days  before  secured  long  options  on  the  principal 
undeveloped  tracts  in  the  county  as  well  as  on  most 
of  the  producing  mines.  He  was  a  very  fine  gentleman, 
and  the  people  had  hopes  that  something  would  happen. 
They  had  cherished  such  hopes  since  the  war — Sam 
again  saw  a  Rip  Van  Winkle  population — and  their 
hopes  had  withered.  But  now  the  hopes  were  greening 
anew.  If  Northern  capital  came  down  to  this  blessed 
country  they  would  all  prosper. 

"That's  the  Old  Man,"  laughed  Sam,  and  Darrell 
nodded  admiringly.  Anything  that  his  father  could 
do  to  make  these  people  acquire  the  habit  of  work,  if 
not  the  love  of  it,  to  make  them  prosper,  would  be  in 

220 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

the  nature  of  a  miracle.  To  galvanize  into  life  a  land 
asleep,  to  increase  the  wealth  of  the  country,  to  fight, 
to  overcome  obstacles.  .  .  . 

"We  will  pay  Mr.  Morson  the  compliment  of  assum 
ing  that  he  has  overlooked  nothing  bigger  than  a  five- 
cent  piece,"  said  Darrell.  "I  think  you  had  better 
hypnotize  Robinson  pretty  quick,  or  your  father  will 
leave  nothing  to  you  except  a  glow  of  unselfish  joy, 
Sammy." 

And  Sam,  who  saw  the  goal  near  now  and  more 
alluring  than  ever,  replied,  happily: 

"On  to  Richmond!" 

It  is  the  first  step  which  is  difficult.  But  when  it  is 
down-stairs.  . 


XVI 


THEY  had  letters  of  introduction  to  several  people 
in  Richmond,  but  the  first  man  they  called  on  was 
Joseph  Leigh,  first  vice-president  of  the  Roanoke  & 
Western.  Mr.  Leigh  was  as  nice  as  he  could  possibly 
be  to  the  only  son  of  the  Roanoke 's  master. 

"Your  father  wrote  me  you  were  coming  and  would 
travel  over  the  entire  system.  We've  been  expecting 
you,  Mr.  Rock.  Captain  Rogers,  superintendent  of  our 
Western  division  will  be  very  glad  to  place  himself  at 
your  disposal,  and  in  two  weeks  you'll  know  the  road 
as  well  as  he  does,  or  better — almost  as  well  as  your 
father.  Anything  in  the  way  of  a  special  train,  and  so 
forth,  you  have  only  to  let  us  know  what  you  wish  to 
do,  Mr.  Rock.  Captain  Rogers  will  see  to  it." 

"Thank  you.  I  haven't  fully  decided.  I  think  we'll 
stay  in  Richmond  a  few  days,"  said  Sam. 

"I'm  too  busy  myself  " — Leigh  spoke  regretfully,  but 
at  the  same  time  with  an  air  of  exclusive  devotion  to  the 
railroad — "to  have  much  time  for  social  pleasures,  and 
I'm  really  almost  as  much  of  a  stranger  here  as  you. 
But  I'll  have  Judge  Abercrombie  put  you  up  at  the 
Dominion  Club.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  your  father's. 
He  is  the  Roanoke 's  confidential  attorney — 

"Is  he  generally  known  as  such  here?" 

"No,  indeed!"  laughed  Mr.  Leigh.  "He  is  one  of 
our  political  leaders,  with  senatorial  ambitions,  and  it 

222 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

would  not  do  to  be  a  corporation  man.  He  knows 
everybody  worth  knowing  in  Virginia,  and  is  a  very 
able  and  discreet  man.  As  for  myself,  I  need  not  say 
my  time  is  entirely  yours,  Mr.  Rock,  at  any  and  all 
times.  Excuse  me  half  a  second."  And  he  turned  to 
a  clerk  who  had  just  come  in  with  some  documents. 
The  vice-president  read  them  over  very  quickly,  per 
haps  not  displeased  to  work  in  the  sight  of  the  only 
son,  and  gave  short,  sharp  instructions  to  the  waiting 
clerk,  with  a  decisive  air,  almost  military. 

Sam  could  not  help  being  impressed  by  the  atmos 
phere  of  this  office  and  the  manner  of  these  men  in 
contrast  with  the  happy-go-lucky  methods  of  what 
Virginia  Central  officials  had  come  to  his  observation. 
Here  the  machinery  ran  smoothly,  like  machinery 
under  control  of  an  efficient  engineer.  He  turned  to 
Darrell,  and  the  Westerner,  divining  what  was  in  the 
youngster's  mind,  smiled  acquiescingly .  This  was  Samp 
son  Rock's  office  and  Sam  was  Sampson  Rock's  son. 
The  thought  gave  Sam  a  vague  sense  of  ownership,  and 
it  stimulated  his  desire  to  take  an  active  part  in  his 
father's  business. 

Shortly  afterwards  they  left  Mr.  Leigh  to  call  on 
Judge  Abercrombie,  Mr.  Leigh  volunteering  to  inform 
the  Judge  by  telephone  of  their  intended  visit. 

The  confidential  legal  adviser  of  the  Roanoke,  who 
knew  everybody  in  Virginia  worth  knowing,  and  all 
the  politicians  to  boot,  was  delighted  to  meet  young 
Mr.  Rock  and  his  friend.  He  showed  it  facially.  To 
make  sure,  he  also  said  it  twice.  He  would  consider 
it  an  honor,  as  well  as  a  pleasure,  to  have  them  make 
his  office  their  office  and  his  home  their  home  during 
their  stay  in  Richmond.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  well 
preserved,  with  a  tendency  towards  dignified  oratory. 

223 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

Sam  thanked  him,  and  explained  that  their  move 
ments  would  be  too  uncertain  for  them  to  think  of 
trespassing  upon  his  hospitality. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Judge  Abercrombie,  with  the 
simplicity  of  real  tragedy. 

"And  we,  naturally,  even  more,"  Sam  assured  him. 
He  was  again  impressed  by  the  persistence  of  his 
father's  far-reaching  influence.  As  in  the  office  of  the 
Roanoke's  vice-president,  there  was  in  this  room,  with 
its  walls  one  solid  mass  of  law-books  and  lawyer's  tin 
boxes,  a  subtle  atmosphere  that  told  of  Sampson 
Rock's  power.  Sam  felt  almost  as  if  his  father  were 
present  in  the  flesh.  These  men  displayed  not  so  much 
deference,  but  attentiveness ;  they  were  soldiers  listen 
ing  to  the  general-in-chief  who  would  tell  them  what 
position  they  should  take  on  the  battle-field.  Always 
when  this  phase  of  Sampson  Rock's  business  came 
before  him,  Sam  felt  that  there  was  inspiration  in  the 
work  itself.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Sam  said: 

"Judge  Abercrombie,  I'm  here  on  a  little  business 
trip  with  Mr.  Darrell.  We  have  just  come  from 
Austin." 

"Oh  yes." 

"Have  you  seen  Mr.  Morson  lately?" 

"I  had  that  pleasure  last  week,"  answered  the  law 
yer,  cordially.  "He  is  a  very  interesting  man,  Mr. 
Rock,  and  very  devoted  to  your  father." 

Sam  smiled.  His  father's  lieutenants  were  so  loyal 
that  each  spoke  well  of  the  other.  How  did  the  Old 
Man  manage  to  do  it  ?  Surely,  not  alone  by  paying  big 
fees!  Half  at  random  he  said: 

"You  probably  know  what  he  has  been  doing  in 
Austin  County?" 

Judge  Abercrombie  permitted  himself  a  non-com- 
224 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

mittal  smile,  and,  in  a  rather  careful  manner,  carelessly 
said  nothing.  There  was,  of  course,  nothing  to  say — 
both  if  Sam  were  informed  and  if  he  were  not. 

"At  all  events,  I  wish  you  would  look  after  the  legal 
end  of  a  little  matter  that  I  may  or  may  not  carry 
through,"  went  on  Sam.  "But  this  is  not  a  Roanoke 
affair,  nor  one  in  which  my  father  is  interested  officially. 
The  selection  of  these  particular  words  came  easy. 
Sam  knew  what  he  wished  to  do. 

The  lawyer  bowed  a  trifle  formally,  and  said,  "I  am 
at  your  service,  Mr.  Rock."  The  salvation  of  the  South 
would  come  from  Northern  capital.  The  salvation  of 
Southern  gentlemen  of  the  learned  professions  would 
come  from  Northern  captains  of  industry  of  enter 
prising  habits.  This  made  him  smile  cordially  as  he 
added: 

"If  I  may  ask — " 

"I  hope  to  be  ready  in  a  few  days.  By-the-way,  sir, 
do  you  happen  to  know  Colonel  Robinson,  of  the  Vir 
ginia  Central?"  Leigh  had  said  the  lawyer  was  able 
and  discreet. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Judge  Abercrombie — "very  well, 
indeed."  The  plot  thickened.  The  deal  might  grow. 
If  it  did,  the  fee  similarly  would  take  on  weight.  These 
Northern  capitalists  were  very  curious;  very  frank  one 
moment,  exasperatingly  reserved  the  next.  In  due 
time  he  would  know  more. 

"Mr.  Darrell  and  I  would  like  to  meet  him." 

"Whenever  you  wish.     He  is  in  town  now." 

"The  sooner  the  better."  The  very  great  interest 
with  which  his  words  were  heard  gave  to  Sam  a  feeling 
of  confidence.  That  interest  he  owed  to  his  father. 
That  confidence  made  him  feel  that  he  would  be  able  to 
go  through  life  without  ever  having  to  sacrifice  direct- 

225 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

ness  in  his  business  dealings  in  order  to  attain  his  ends. 
It  was  not  the  Sampson  Rock  of  the  ticker,  but  the 
Sampson  Rock  who  did  things,  who  was  his  father  now. 

"Colonel  Robinson  and  your  father,  Mr.  Rock — " 
began  the  lawyer,  with  a  sort  of  deferential  regret. 

"If  it  embarrasses  you  in  the  slightest  to  introduce 
me  to  the  Colonel,  Mr.  Darrell  not  being  my  father's 
son,  perhaps — "  He  paused.  Here  was  another  ob 
stacle. 

"Not  at  all,"  denied  Judge  Abercrombie,  looking  very 
brave  and  very  loyal.  "I  consider  it  an  honor  to  be 
included  among  your  father's  friends.  I  regard  him 
as  one  of  the  greatest  men  we  have  to-day  in  this  coun 
try,  and  I've  known  many  distinguished  Americans  in 
my  time,  Mr.  Rock.  I  would  there  were  more  like 
him."  The  lawyer  managed  to  look  both  affectionate 
and  strictly  judicial. 

"I'm  naturally  glad  to  have  you  think  so,  Judge 
Abercrombie,"  said  Sam,  with  a  grateful  smile.  A  fleet 
ing  glimpse  of  his  father  beside  the  ticker  flashed  across 
his  mind.  The  stock-market  was  merely  an  incident ;  it 
was  the  man  at  work,  improving  railroads,  establishing 
efficiency,  the  fighter  of  the  modern  battle  of  business, 
the  man  who  commanded  thousands  of  other  men. 
Sam  said,  briskly: 

"At  all  events,  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  have  Darrell 
meet  the  Colonel  first." 

"The  fewer  people  who  know  that  Mr.  Sampson 
Rock's  son  is  here  the  better,"  put  in  Darrell.  "Above 
all,  beware  of  the  reporters."  He  smiled,  but  Sam 
saw  that  he  was  in  earnest.  That  made  him  frown. 
His  father's  reputation  helped,  but  it  also  was  incon 
venient,  at  times.  The  name  on  a  hotel-register  could 
interfere  with  important  plans. 

226 


\ 

SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"You  must  let  me  put  you  up  at  the  club,  gentle 
men  , ' '  said  the  Judge .  ' '  Colonel  Robinson  is  there  every 
night.  But  you  must  not  misunderstand  me,  Mr.  Rock, 
and  thereby  do  an  injustice  to  Colonel  Robinson.  He 
is  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  breeding,  a  very  charming 
man  socially.  But  his  railroad  interests  have  clashed 
at  times  with  those  of  your — of  the  Roanoke."  He 
looked  as  if  it  were  not  so  much  poor  Robinson's  fault, 
but  the  Virginia  Central's. 

"I  understand,  perfectly,"  Sam  assured  him. 

"Suppose  we  dine  at  the  club  to-night?"  suggested 
Judge  Abercrombie. 

"You  are  very  good.  We  should  be  delighted."  No 
time  was  being  wasted.  To  see  what  manner  of  man 
Robinson  was,  and  then  to  act ;  this  was  pleasing.  The 
lawyer,  who  was  watching  him  attentively,  felt  certain 
young  Rock  must  be  in  his  father's  confidence,  and  mar 
velled  never  to  have  heard  Sampson  Rock  speak  of  his 
son.  A  fine-looking  young  fellow  who  looked  kindly, 
as  all  young  men  should  to  whom  the  cost  of  kindliness 
cannot  be  prohibitive.  He  would  ask  Leigh  about 
young  Rock.  For  reasons  of  his  own — and,  no  doubt, 
supremely  wise  —  Sampson  Rock  did  not  choose  to 
appear  directly  in  this  new  and  mysterious,  but  prob 
ably  very  important,  deal.  For  one  thing,  the  cost  of 
getting  what  he  wanted  would  obviously  be  much 
cheaper;  but  he  had  sent  his  own  son  instead  of  an 
agent.  The  lawyer  was  even  then  looking  into  the 
titles  of  the  coal  properties,  and  Morson  had  also  en 
joined  the  utmost  discretion. 

"  By-the-way,  Judge,  are  you  familiar  with  the  Austin 
Iron  Company's  property?"  asked  Sam. 

"Ye-es,"  replied  the  Judge,  meditatively.  "It  is 
owned  practically  by  local  capitalists.  I  know  all  of 

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SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

them.  It  has  never  fulfilled  their  expectations.  Why 
it  is  not  a  success  I  do  not  know." 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Fletcher,  the  manager?" 

"No;  but  I  can  easily  learn  all  about  him." 

Darrell  began  to  fidget. 

"Well,  he  thinks  he  can  get  the  majority  of  its  stock 
for  us.  Mr.  Darrell,  who  is  an  expert,  thinks  the  prop 
erty  would  pay  well  with  a  better  plant,  and  I  do  too. 
We'll  take  it — Mr.  Darrell  and  I — jointly,  if  we  can 
get  it  now  at  our  own  price.  But  Fletcher  may  find  it 
a  little  difficult  to  get  as  much  as  we  want,  and  I  think 
we  shall  have  to  ask  your  help.  But  we  shall  discuss 
this  later." 

Darrell,  who  had  been  staring  at  a  corner  of  the 
room,  biting  his  lips  from  time  to  time,  turned  to  Sam 
and  said,  calmly: 

' '  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  have  Judge  Abercrombie 
see  the  company's  charter.  We  really  don't  know 
whether  it  is  possible  to  issue  bonds  to  provide  for  new 
working  capital."  He  looked  at  Sam  meaningly. 

"I  shall  examine  it  at  once,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Telegraph  Fletcher  to  make  haste,  Jack.  I  don't 
want  to  stay  in  Richmond  forever.  If  you  don't  mind, 
we  shall  write  Fletcher  to  address  his  letters  to  us  in 
your  care,  Judge." 

"Consider  this  your  office,  Mr.  Rock." 

"Thank  you.  We've  taken  up  enough  of  your 
time.  Oh  yes,  we  have!  To-night  at  the  club;  about 
seven?" 

"At  your  pleasure.  I  shall  be  there  from  five 
o'clock  on." 

"Au  revoir,  then,  Judge." 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  street  Darrell  turned  to 
Sam  and  asked,  with  much  solemnity,  "Will  you  kindly 

228 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

tell  me  in  words  of  one  syllable  why  you  had  to  tell 
Abercrombie  that  we  were  after  the  Austin  Iron  Com 
pany?" 

Sam  looked  at  his  friend  a  moment  and  then  laughed. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Jack,  it  came  out  of  itself." 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  liked  the  Judge  so  much  you 
wished  to  buy  stock  from  him — the  same  stock  he  will 
proceed  to  buy  as  soon  as  your  back  is  turned.  I'm 
glad  it  wasn't  an  irresistible  burst  of  generosity." 
Darrell  nodded  to  himself  as  if  in  relief. 

"But  it  struck  me  immediately  afterwards  that  it 
would  be  better  if  he  thought  we  were  after  coal  and 
iron  than  after  the  railroad  itself.  Our  trip  to  Austin 
right  after  Morson  began  to  look  too  devilish  mysteri 
ous." 

Darrell  looked  at  Sam  with  interest.  Then  he  asked: 
"And  you  thought  that  all  by  yourself?  Well,  now!" 

"That's  all  right,"  retorted  Sam,  confidently.  "It's 
better  for  him  to  make  a  few  dollars  out  of  Austin  than 
to  interfere  with  the  real  article.  We  probably  will 
need  legal  advice,  and  by  talking  about  it  now  we  show 
we  have  perfect  confidence  in  him.  I  tell  you,  he's 
worked  for  my  father.  Now  he'll  work  for  me." 

"Look  here,  Sam;  you  mustn't  imagine  you  are  the 
ninth  wonder.  Your  father's  name  helps  you  more 
than  anything  else  short  of  millions  in  cold  cash 
would." 

"I  know.  And  it  makes  it  difficult,  if  I  want  to  get 
anything  for  my  own  self." 

"Precisely.     You  let  me  handle  Robinson — " 

"I  want  to  deal  fair — " 

"If  he  needs  a  wet-nurse,  he's  no  business  to  be 
president  of  a  railroad.  His  place  is  in  an  asylum  for 
the  feeble-minded.  What  are  you  going  to  tell  him — 

229 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL    STREET 

that  you  want  to  buy  the  control  of  his  blooming 
streaks  of  rust  at  any  figure  he'll  name?  I  see  him 
marking  down  the  price  to  sixteen  cents  a  yard." 

"I  don't  know  what  I'll  say,  but—" 

"The  first  thing  he  will  ask  himself  is  why  you 
should  want  to  buy  Virginia  Central  stock  at  all. 
Being  Sampson  Rock's  only  son,  he  will  suspect  at 
once — " 

"Yes,"  frowned  Sam.  He  saw  no  beautiful  direct 
plan  of  dealing. 

"The  only  decent  excuse  you  could  have  is  for  me — 
my  coal  and  iron  syndicate — to  have  an  interest  in  the 
road  upon  which  our  prosperity  depends.  But  for 
Sampson  Rock  to  buy  one  share  of  Virginia  Central 
stock  means  absorption  by  the  Roanoke.  He'd  suc 
cumb  to  that  argument  like  a  thousand  of  brick,  I 
don't  think!" 

"We'll  have  to  get  it."  Sam  spoke  determinedly. 
He  frowned,  staring  groundward,  thinking  of  ways  and 
means  to  buy  Robinson's  stock  honestly,  fairly,  de 
cently.  The  work  itself,  the  doing  of  it,  that  was  the 
thing.  "We'll  have  to  get  it,"  he  repeated,  "some 
how!" 

"By  business  methods  or  by  real,  pleasant,  lady-like 
loquacity  ?"  Darrell  asked  it  with  exaggerated  anxiety. 

"We'll  get  it,"  replied  Sam,  without  a  smile,  "like 
gentlemen." 


XVII 

AT  dinner  that  evening  Judge  Abercrombie  told 
them  that  Colonel  Robinson  was  greatly  inter 
ested  in  the  development  of  suburban  real  estate  and 
needed  money — needed  it,  he  had  heard  it  whispered, 
quite  urgently.  But,  the  lawyer  added,  with  sudden 
caution,  he  had  many  friends  and  quite  a  "following." 

"He  always  needs  money.  He  is  in  a  million 
schemes,  and  none  of  them  does  as  well  as  it  ought 
to  because  he  always  lacks  sufficient  capital.  He 
seldom  loses  heavily,  but  he  never  makes  much. 
Usually  other  people  take  it  off  his  hands  at  cost  or  a 
little  below,  and  they  make  a  good  thing  out  of  it. 
He  is  one  of  God's  optimists.  He  sees  the  future  all 
sunshine.  His  eyes  look  so  intently  upon  his  latest 
hope  gleaming  in  the  distance,  made  real  by  his  im 
agination  and  his  optimism,  that  he  does  not  see  the 
rough  road  up  which  he  must  walk  before  he  can  grasp 
his  glittering  desire.  One  of  God's  own  optimists,  sir; 
and  he  imparts  his  optimism  to  many  people!" 

Judge  Abercrombie  seemed  pleased.  Sam  concluded 
it  must  be  with  his  rhetoric,  which  he  thought  was 
really  very  nice.  He  knew  some  men  who  were  just 
like  Colonel  Robinson.  Doubtless  this  was  one  of  the 
dogs  in  the  manger,  one  of  the  incompetents  that  ex 
asperated  Sampson  Rock.  Sam  was  forced  to  admit 
that  such  exasperation  was  not  strange.  But  the  strong 

231 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

should  be  merciful.  At  the  worst,  Colonel  Robinson 
was  but  a  child  at  play  beside  men  at  work.  He  asked, 
indulgently: 

"Which  is  the  latest  glittering  desire.  Judge  Aber- 
crombie,  the  Virginia  Central  or  his  suburban  prop 
erties?"  It  seemed  to  him  a  man  should  have  a  defi 
nite  aim  and  stick  to  one  thing.  A  diversity  of  desire 
was  demoralizing,  according  to  Sampson  Rock;  and 
Sam  now  agreed  with  him. 

"He  has  talked  of  nothing  else  but  Capital  Park 
these  past  six  weeks.  He  wished  me  to  have  an  in 
terest  in  the  company." 

"And  you?" 

"I  did  not,  Mr.  Rock,"  smiled  the  Judge.  "I  am 
a  poor  man." 

Sam  felt  vaguely  this  was  a  hint.  The  Judge  was  a 
nice  chap.  Sam  was  well  disposed  towards  him.  He 
said: 

"So  am  I.  We'll  have  to  see  if  we  can't  stop  being 
that — together,  Judge,  eh?"  To  name  the  exact  date 
and  the  figures  would  have  been  poor  taste.  The  use  of 
the  plural  conveyed  the  promise  nicely.  The  implied 
partnership  showed  personal  affection.  Sam  really 
had  not  thought  of  all  this,  but  after  the  words  were 
out  he  was  rather  pleased  at  the  effect  on  the  lawyer, 
who  replied: 

"My  dear  young  man,  I  should  feel  much  easier  for 
my  family  if  I  thought  you  would  really  keep  in  mind 
a  poor  old  Southern  lawyer  in  your  deals."  Judge 
Abercrombie  said  it  quizzically,  subtly,  intimately, 
with  a  humorous  smile — and  yet  there  was  an  under 
current  of  earnestness  in  the  voice.  In  his  eyes,  for 
all  their  would-be  whimsical  expression  of  gratitude, 
there  smouldered  an  irrepressible  hope.  And  Sam  per- 

232 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

ceived  the  gleam  and  his  own  importance  to  this  gray- 
haired  lawyer.  For  the  way  the  thoughts  ran  in  the 
gray-haired  lawyer's  mind  was  this :  Sampson  Rock, 
Jr.;  that  is  to  say,  Sampson  Rock,  Sr.;  that  is  to 
say,  money;  that  is  to  say,  gratified  ambitions — per 
haps  even  the  United  States  Senate.  The  United 
States  Senate — that  is  to  say,  reasoning  backward, 
gratified  ambitions;  that  is  to  say,  money.  It  ended 
there — in  money.  He  was  not  "mercenary,"  because 
money  means  one  thing  to  one  man  and  to  another 
something  else.  Dollar-signs  can  spell  so  many  kinds 
of  words — epithalamiums,  for  instance,  and  fierce  war- 
chants  and  political  orations  and  grateful  truths — also 
lies.  Mere  money-hoarders  are  few.  Sampson  Rock, 
who  had  it,  did  not  sigh  for  more  money — only  for  more 
time;  there  were  so  many  things  to  do,  and  life  was  so 
short.  To  his  son  money  was  barely  commencing  to 
take  on  a  meaning.  But  already  there  was  a  different 
hue  to  his  thoughts,  a  glitter  faintly  metallic. 

Therefore,  Judge  Abercrombie  loved  the  young  man. 
That  was  no  exaggeration;  it  was  merely  a  reflex  ac 
tion;  for  he  loved  himself  and  his  family  and  his  laud 
able  ambitions,  and  was  an  optimist;  also  sixty-eight 
years  of  age. 

They  were  at  their  coffee  when  one  of  the  waiters  told 
the  Judge  that  Colonel  Robinson  had  arrived  at  the 
club.  Shortly  afterwards  the  Judge  took  Darrell  with 
him  and  sought  the  Colonel. 

"Good-evening,  Colonel;  I  trust  I  see  you  well?" 

1 '  You  may  safely  trust  your  sight,  your  honor.  How 
is  my  learned  brother?"  Colonel  Robinson  smiled, 
evidently  pleased  with  himself,  his  digestion,  his 
finances,  his  friends,  the  Judge's  appearance,  and  his 
own  witty  way  of  speaking.  He  was  a  tall,  straight, 

233 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

handsome  man,  with  a  florid  complexion,  snow-white 
hair  and  "imperial,"  and  clear,  clean,  blue  eyes.  Over 
the  left  eyebrow  he  carried — almost  you  might  say  he 
wore — a  sabre  scar.  It  became  him.  He  knew  it.  His 
military  carriage  was  deliberately  meant  to  match  the 
scar — the  autograph  of  the  war  god,  he  probably  called  it. 

"I  wish  to  present  to  you  my  very  good  friend,  Mr. 
John  Darrell,  of  New  York,  Colonel  Robinson." 

Colonel  Robinson  stood  up,  erect,  impressive,  a 
Southern  gentleman,  a  soldier — and  an  optimist.  He 
bowed  very  gracefully.  Darrell's  bow  was  not  quite  so 
graceful.  Colonel  Robinson  said,  "Mr.  Darrell,  when  I 
say  I  am  delighted,  I  do  no  justice  to  my  feelings." 

"I  myself  am  more  than  glad  to  meet  you,  Colonel 
Robinson.  Andyoumust  allowme  to  express  the  hope — " 

Colonel  Robinson  bowed  again. 

"Sir,  consider  it  fulfilled,  whatever  it  may  be."  He 
extended  his  hand  with  a  sort  of  dignified  cordiality 
that  somehow  imparted  to  his  action  a  sort  of  sense  of 
unusual  favor,  compelled  by  Darrell's  winning  ways. 
He  looked  straight  into  Darrell's  eyes  as  Darrell  shook 
the  out-stretched  hand  firmly. 

"A  very  nice  man!"  thought  Colonel  Robinson. 

"Funny  old  cuss!"  thought  Darrell. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  sir,  in  the  classic  language  of  his  Ex 
cellence  of  South  Carolina — "  And  Colonel  Robin 
son  looked  anxiously  at  Darrell.  Would  Mr.  Darrell 
blast  all  his  hopes  by  a  negative  ? 

"I'm  not  proof  against  your  eloquence,"  replied 
Darrell,  with  much  seriousness. 

The  Colonel  beamed,  his  one  ambition  in  life  having 
been  gratified. 

"Waiter!"  he  said,  snapping  his  fingers  sharply.  His 
very  impatience  was  a  subtle  compliment  to  Darrell. 

234 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

"I  leave  you  in  good  hands,  Mr.  Darrell,"  said  Judge 
Abercrombie,  rising  to  go. 

"And  Colonel  Robinson  in  better,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"But,  surely,  Judge,  you — " 

"I  have  a  friend  in  the  dining-room — " 

"May  I  not  be  his  friend  also,  Judge?" 

"Thank  you;  we  shall  join  you  directly." 

"I  beg  that  you  will  give  me  that  pleasure,  Judge." 
He  looked  after  Abercrombie  lovingly. 

' '  I  have  been  travelling  over  your  road  lately,  Colonel 
Robinson,"  began  Darrell,  explanatorily. 

"Then,  sir,  you  have  my  sincere  sympathy,"  said  the 
Colonel,  with  decision. 

Darrell  smiled  uncertainly,  because  Colonel  Robinson 
looked  so  serious.  The  Westerner  went  on: 

"I  think  it  has  a  great  future.  It  is  my  firm  con 
viction  that  a  new  era  of  prosperity  is  dawning  for  the 
entire  South."  He  was  vaguely  plagiarizing  from 
some  land  -  boomer's  prospectus.  "Some  friends  of 
mine  have  been  thinking  that  there  ought  to  be  money 
in  the  Austin  County  coal  and  iron  mines." 

This  was  a  pleasant  surprise  to  the  Colonel — his 
road  tapped,  or  was  supposed  to  tap,  that  section.  It 
meant  this  man's  money  would  help  the  road.  But 
if  Mr.  Darrell  or  his  friends  had  capital  to  invest,  there 
were  other  opportunities  for  them  to  do  so.  Colonel 
Robinson  knew  them;  he  was  the  president  of  other 
companies  than  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad. 

"Money?"  almost  sneered  Colonel  Robinson,  as  if  a 
child  had  spoken  of  a  half -dime  in  connection  with 
four  bushels  of  diamonds,  Kohinoor  size.  "Money? 
Millions,  sir!  But" — he  would  be  frank,  at  any  pe 
cuniary  cost  to  the  president  of  the  Virginia  Central, 
who  stood  to  win  much  from  such  an  investment  by 
*6  235 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

Darrell  and  his  friends — ' '  but  of  course  it  is  slow  work 
— very  slow,  sir.  Our  people  are  not  educated  to  the 
strenuous  life  of  the  North.  Virginia,  sir,  to-day  of 
fers  the  grandest  opportunities  to  capital  and  intelligent 
enterprise  ever  vouchsafed  to  man  since  the  beginning 
of  time;  nor  are  the  opportunities  confined  to  one 
section.  They  are  everywhere.  In  this  very  city,  the 
capital  of  this  grand  old  State,  I  can  see  magnificent 
returns  to  the  investor — and  at  the  same  time,  Mr. 
Darrell,  absolutely  beyond  all  risk  and  peradventure, 
ten  thousand  leagues  beyond  the  least  possibility  of  a 
loss." 

Colonel  Robinson  was  frowning,  almost  as  though  he 
had  caught  Darrell  doing  a  great  wrong  to  Darrell's 
best  friends  by  being  wilfully  blind  to  the  contents  of 
the  Richmond  Golconda,  above  the  open  door  of  which 
anybody  with  half  an  eye  could  read  the  huge  placard: 
"Help  yourself.— T.  Robinson." 

"I  may  say  to  you,  Colonel  Robinson,  confidentially 
of  course — " 

"Of  course,"  assented  Colonel  Robinson,  tranquilliz- 
ingly. 

"That  I  am  seeking  opportunities  for  investment. 
But  I  don't  want  little  things.  I'd  like  something 
worth  while,  something  big." 

"Cer-tain-ly!"  acquiesced  Colonel  Robinson.  His 
manner  showed  that  he  had  known  that  much  from 
the  first  merely  by  looking  at  Darrell's  face,  and  also 
that  he  himself  never  bothered  with  small  affairs.  In 
his  own  section  Colonel  Robinson  was  a  big  man.  He 
represented,  to  his  poorer  fellow-Virginians,  the  Money 
Power — capital  and  enterprise.  But  often,  when  he 
read  in  the  New  York  papers  about  the  latest  Northern 
captains  of  industry  and  the  stock-market  magnates, 

236 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

and  their  deals  and  their  winnings,  he  felt  his  own  in 
significance  with  a  vague  regret.  His  people  thought 
him  a  money-maker.  He  allowed  them  to  think  so, 
but  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  knew  he  was  not.  His  ideas 
were  good,  but  the  results  were  never  commensurate 
with  his  hopes  nor  with  the  hopes  of  his  associates. 
But  his  soul,  for  all  that,  was  ever  a  hot-bed  of  hope. 
How  the  hopes  grew! 

"But,"  continued  Darrell,  "to  be  perfectly  frank—" 
"Let  us  irrigate,  Mr.  Darrell,  sir."  The  Colonel's 
quick  but  ingenuous  interruption  made  Darrell  smile 
slightly.  Irrigation  meant  good  temper,  and  that  might 
make  perfect  frankness  almost  palatable,  which  unirri- 
gated  frankness  not  always  was.  The  Colonel  held  up 
his  glass  and  said,  with  an  affectionate  respect: 

"To  your  very  good  health,  sir!  And  now,"  he 
went  on,  with  the  air  of  resuming  the  conversation 
where  he  and  none  other  had  left  off,  "though  there  is 
much  profit  to  be  found  in  the  development  of  iron  and 
coal  properties — much  money,  Mr.  Darrell  " — Colonel 
Robinson  conceded  at  least  one  hundred  millions  readily 
and  impressively — "yet  there  is  the  element  of  time  to 
consider.  It  is  well  that  one  should  reap  the  rewards 
of  one's  labors,  instead  of  one's  grandchildren  doing  it 
after  one  is  cold  clay.  And,  moreover,  you  have  the 
instability  of  the  iron  trade  to  consider.  As  the  great 
Carnegie,  of  library  fame,  has  aptly  observed,  it  is  a 
case  of  feast  or  famine.  There  is  no  happy,  no  golden 
medium.  I  know  people,  most  estimable  people,  who 
owned  iron-mines  and  thought  they  were  gold-mines, 
and  waited  years  and  years — and  they  are  still  waiting 
— for  somebody  else  to  develop  them.  Do  you  know 
what  an  iron-mine  is  ?  The  graveyard  of  hope  !  But " — • 
the  Colonel,  having  sternly  buried  all  iron  hopes,  past, 

237 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

present,  and  prospective,  permitted  a  slight  but  affec 
tionate  smile  to  illumine  his  face — "a  constantly  in 
creasing  population  is  one  of  nature's  grand  and  wise 
laws.  The  love  of  family  is  implanted  by  the  Supreme 
Creator  in  the  heart  of  man.  Grow  and  multiply! 
That  is  a  divine  command,  and,  by  gad,  sir!  it  is  easy 
to  follow  in  this  glorious  climate.  We  have  no  race- 
suicides  in  this  garden-spot  of  the  earth.  Therefore,  I 
say" — he  paused  to  shake  a  rigid  forefinger  at  Dar- 
rell— "I  say,  Real  Estate!" 

There  are  many  speakers  who  have  the  hypnotic 
faculty.  Colonel  Robinson  had  it.  His  own  words  al 
ways  hypnotized  him ;  the  psychological  effluvia  struck 
inward.  Darrell's  look  of  interest  made  a  warm  glow 
come  over  the  auto-hypnotist.  He  rang  the  little  bell 
and  said: 

"Waiter,  tell  William  it's  for  Colonel  Robinson.  As 
I  was  saying,  Mr.  Darrell,  Richmond's  population  is 
growing  by  leaps  and  bounds,  and  with  it  the  wealth  of 
the  cultured  classes.  The  first  thought  a  young  man 
has  when  he  contemplates  matrimony  is  a  home.  The 
birds  build  nests  on  the  trees  the  moment  they  begin  to 
think  of  a  family.  But  a  young  man  of  refinement  can't 
make  a  house  of  nine  straws  and  seven  horse-hairs  in  a 
leafy  bower.  Therefore,  if  the  young  couple  must  have 
progeny  that  shall  grow  into  useful  men  and  beautiful 
women,  why,  the  young  couple  must  have  a  nice  house. 
It  is  nature's  eternal  law,  which  is  reducible  to  beauti 
ful  poems,  but  also  to  dollars  and  cents.  We  must  not 
talk  business  here,  but  this  is  a  hobby  of  mine.  Say 
when,  Mr.  Darrell." 

"My,  this  is  fine,"  said  Darrell,  smacking  his  lips. 
He  felt  he  had  taken  the  measure  of  the  old  chap  and 
wished  Sam  would  come.  He  was  not  selfish. 

238 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"You  may  well  say  so,  sir.  There  is  not,  alas!  very 
much  of  it  extant.  The  fact  that  I  have  not  concealed 
this  golden  secret  from  you  shows  that  there  is  no 
North  and  no  South,  only  a  common  country."  He 
smiled,  lest  Darrell  should  take  him  too  seriously  or 
talk  politics.  The  Colonel  wished  to  be  airily  jocular, 
but  the  words  ran  away  with  him. 

"As  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Darrell,  when  a  business  is 
based  upon  something  so  beautiful  and  so  substantial 
as  the  love  of  home — that  grand  old  Anglo-Saxon  word 
for  which  there  is  no  exact  equivalent  in  any  other 
language — then,  sir,  it  is  merely  a  case  of  folding  your 
arms  and  letting  your  bank  account  grow  with  the 
growth  of  the  city.  The  greatest,  the  most  solid  fort 
une  in  America,  that  of  the  Astors,  was  made  by  real 
estate.  It  was  suburban  when  they  bought  it;  it  is 
now  in  the  heart  of  the  city.  The  population  of  Rich 
mond  in  the  year  1875  was>  m  round  numbers — 

Judge  Abercrombie  and  Sam  approached  them. 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,  Colonel  Robinson,"  said  the 
lawyer,  "I'll  leave  my  friend  in  your  care.  I  promised 
to  take  Mrs.  Abercrombie  to  Mrs.  Lyman's  musicale." 

"She  is  well,  Judge?  She  will  see  Mrs.  Robinson 
there.  My  very  best  compliments.  Can  you  not  tarry 
a  fraction  of  a  second?  Waiter!" 

Sam  bowed  to  Colonel  Robinson,  and  said  to  Darrell: 

"Jack,  are  you  aware  that  we  have — " 

"I'd  rather  break  the  engagement  than  leave  Colonel 
Robinson  until  he  bid  me.  Colonel,  my  assistant,  Mr. 
Rock,"  said  Darrell. 

"Assistant  nothing,"  said  Sam. 

"I'm  trying  to  teach  him  how  to  be  a  truthful  mining 
engineer,"  Darrell  confided  to  Colonel  Robinson. 

"An  excellent  profession,"  said  Colonel  Robinson, 
239 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

with  an  almost  affectionate  encouragement  to  the 
young  man.  "I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  sir.  And  I  hope 
that  you  may  exercise  it  in  this  State." 

"It  is  not  my  profession,"  Sam  smiled.  But  he  did 
not  wish  Robinson  to  be  misinformed. 

"Not  yet,  but  you  wait,"  and  Darrell  laughed. 

Judge  Abercrombie  was  looking  intently  at  his  watch, 
which,  after  his  absorbed  scrutiny,  he  held  to  his  ear 
and  listened,  frowning — in  order  not  to  seem  to  hear 
Colonel  Robinson  should  Colonel  Robinson  ask  incon 
venient  questions  about  Sam's  identity.  He  put  the 
watch  in  his  pocket,  and,  rising  to  his  feet,  said: 

"I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  must  be  off  post-haste. 
Darrell,  I'll  see  both  of  you  boys  to-morrow."  He 
looked  at  Sam  to  explain  by  a  meaning  glance  that  his 
familiarity  was  forced  upon  him.  "Good-night,  gen 
tlemen."  • 

Colonel  Robinson,  excusing  himself  from  the  guests, 
walked  with  the  Judge  to  the  door. 

"Your  friend  Darrell  is  a  very  charming  man."  The 
very  tone  in  which  he  said  this  was  full  of  unuttered 
questions. 

"Yes.  He  is  associated  with  important  capitalists 
in  New  York  who  are  chiefly  interested  in  mining  and 
industrial  enterprises.  He  is  a  mining  expert,  a  very 
famous  one.  I  hope  we  can  induce  him  to  invest  a 
few  millions  in  mines  in  this  State.  He  controls  con 
siderable  capital,  not  only  in  this  country  but  in 
England." 

"Indeed!     Who  are  his— " 

"Colonel,  Mr.  Darrell,  through  his  reputation  and 
his  own  resources,  has  only  to  allot  to  the  members  of 
his  syndicate  their  respective  participations  and  the 
money  is  forthcoming  at  once.  I  think  he  is  not  only 

240 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

a  very  able  but  a  very  nice  man.  I  introduced  him  to 
you  because  I  wanted  you  to  know  gentlemen  whom  I 
am  very  glad  to  know,  and  I  wanted  him  to  know  you 
because  you  know  of  so  many  opportunities  for  invest 
ment  in  this  State.  I  did  not  bring  Darrell  to  the  club 
to  talk  business  to  you.  But  I  regard  it  as  a  solemn 
duty  to  interest  such  men  in  our  State." 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  can't  be  with  us,  Judge,"  said 
Colonel  Robinson,  and  he  returned  to  his  new  friends. 

"You  were  saying  the  Astor  fortune  was  made  out 
of  buying  real  estate,"  said  Darrell,  barely  allowing 
time  for  the  Colonel  to  sit  down. 

"Yes,  sir;  by  buying  suburban  real  estate  and  wait 
ing  for  the  city  to  grow  up.  The  growth  of  Richmond 
is  certain;  it  is  inevitable.  But,  as  I  said,  there  is  no 
need  to  work  for  your  unborn  grandchildren.  The  un 
earned  increment  is  a  loathsome  and  un-American  way 
of  making  money.  In  other  words,  anticipate  the 
future  and  help  it  to  come  quickly.  Assist  the  growth; 
encourage  it;  by  gad,  sir,  force  it!  That  has  ever  been 
my  motto.  A  few  friends — life-long,  personal  friends, 
who  believe  as  I  do — have  associated  themselves  with 
me  in  securing  what  is  beyond  doubt  the  most  valuable 
tract  of  land  in  Richmond — Capital  Park.  We  shall 
develop  it  as  a  high-class  residential  park,  carefully  re 
stricted,  with  beautiful  scenery,  beautiful  surroundings, 
magnificent  avenues,  quick  and  efficient  transportation. 
It  is  altogether  an  attractive  proposition,  and,  apart 
from  the  financial  phase  of  it,  it  has  a  distinctly  patriotic 
side." 

It  was,  indeed,  an  attractive  proposition  to  Colonel 
Robinson.  He  would  not  do  things  on  a  half  scale. 
His  executive  ability  consisted  in  giving  orders  to  sub 
ordinates  and  assuming  that  they  would  be  diligently 

241 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OFWALL  STREET 

and  skilfully  carried  out.  His  plans  entailed  lavish 
expenditures.  Such  land  and  town  schemes  had  been 
highly  profitable  in  the  North  and  West.  There  was  no 
reason  why  this  should  not  prove  equally  successful  in 
Richmond — that  is,  none  that  Colonel  Robinson  could 
see.  He  had  read  and  lovingly  studied  numerous  pros 
pectuses  and  advertisements.  He  would  give  orders  to 
subordinates.  Hence  his  speeches  to  Darrell. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Colonel,"  said  Sam,  with 
evident  sincerity. 

"Your  street-railway  service — "  began  Darrell,  po 
litely. 

"Of  course" — the  Colonel  smiled  to  show  such  a 
thing  had  not  escaped  him — "we  have  completed  the 
surveys  and  obtained  the  right  of  way  and  consents, 
and  are  about  to  secure  the  franchise  for  an  electric 
road  from  Capital  Park  to  the  heart  of  Richmond. 
Perhaps,  unless  your  plans  prevent  it,  you  may  afford 
me  the  privilege  of  showing  you  Capital  Park?" 

"We  gladly  accept  your  invitation,"  said  Darrell. 
"We  came  down  partly  on  pleasure  and  partly  on  busi 
ness,  and  if  an  opportunity  offers  we  may  avail  our 
selves  of  it.  To  have  your  company  to-morrow  will  be 
a  pleasure.  Now,  the  Austin  coal  properties  look  to 
me  like  a  very  good  thing.  But  I  am  assured  the 
transportation  facilities  are  scarcely  adequate  for — 

"If  you  will  guarantee  the  tonnage  I  will  guarantee 
the  transportation,"  said  Colonel  Robinson,  impressive 
ly.  These  Northern  people  would  talk  business  in  a 
church,  not  to  mention  a  club.  The  Colonel  himself 
would  not.  He  really  was  sure  of  it. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  your  Virginia  Central  if 
the  coal-mines  were  developed." 

"We  would  bear  such  an  increase  in  traffic  with 
242 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

philosophical   fortitude,"    assented   Colonel    Robinson 
with  his  humorous  seriousness. 

"I  built  the  Mesa  Grande  road  in  Arizona  from  the 
Lomita  coal-mines  to  the  Southwestern  and  Gulf  main 
line;  we  gave  them  enough  tonnage  to  put  their  pre 
ferred  stock  on  a  dividend-paying  basis.  But  their 
rates  did  not  show  that  they  were  grateful  to  us.  There 
were  lots  of  promises  before  we  developed  the  mines. 
But  when  the  tonnage  was  safe,  they  lost  their  memory. 
What  we  ought  to  have  done  was  to  have  bought 
Southwestern  and  Gulf  stock  to  give  us  representation 
in  their  board.  When  we  realized  this,  the  stock  had 
trebled  in  price  owing  to  the  profit  they  were  making 
out  of  us.  And  then  we  were  forced  to  build  our  own 
railroad  at  a  very  heavy  expense." 

"Well,  sir,  Virginia  Central  stock  at  this  moment  is 
one  of  the  grandest  bargains  ever  offered  to  a  blind  and 
unsuspecting  world,"  said  Colonel  Robinson  decidedly. 

"It  has  been  rather  weak,  lately,  I  understand,"  put 
in  Sam.  "About  forty,  I  think?"  He  looked  in 
quiringly  at  the  Colonel.  The  price  that  morning  had 
touched  thirty-five  again.  Colonel  Robinson,  with  an 
air  of  being  above  petty  details,  as,  for  instance,  a  dif 
ference  of  five  dollars  a  share  in  the  price  of  the  stock 
of  his  road,  said:  "About  there,  more  or  less.  I  think 
my  friends  are  buying  it  at  every  opportunity."  Of 
his  friends,  fully  twoscore  had  been  asking  and  writing 
and  even  telephoning  for  explanations  and  barely  a 
half-dozen  had  promised  to  buy,  if  it  went  any  lower. 
The  latter  were  friends  who  did  not  wish  to  buy  subur 
ban  real  estate,  but  were  willing  to  say  they  would  do 
what  Colonel  Robinson  could  not  object  to,  in  order  to 
show  they  were  loyal ;  such  as,  for  instance,  promise  to 
buy  stock  in  another  Robinson  company. 

243 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"It's  pretty  well  held  in  Virginia,  I  suppose,"  said 
Sam. 

' '  The  stock  is  held  pretty  well  over  the  entire  country 
by  conservative  investors.  Our  bond-holders  are  most 
ly  English,  you  know." 

"Do  you  think  it  is  cheap  at  forty?"  asked  Sam. 

"Is  a  gold  dollar  cheap  at  forty  cents?"  asked 
Colonel  Robinson. 

"Yes,  but  you  can't  always  make  people  believe  it. 
They'll  swear  it  must  be  a  counterfeit,"  laughed  Sam. 

Colonel  Robinson  remembered  the  pusillanimous  and 
impatient  inquiries  that  had  poured  in  during  the  last 
few  weeks.  He  agreed,  almost  angrily: 

"That  is  very  true.  People  are  apt  to  confound  sus- 
piciousness  with  conservatism.  Silly  men  who  know 
me  and  the  road  actually  ask  me  if  I  think  their  in 
vestment  is  safe!  It  is  incomprehensible  to  me" — he 
shook  his  head  despairingly  and  abandoned  all  hope  of 
ever  understanding  it — "how  people  pretending  to 
ordinary  intelligence  fail  to  recognize  the  self-evident 
truth  when  they  meet  it  face  to  face.  They  simply 
don't  know  it  when  they  see  it."  He  shook  his  head 
in  sorrow;  then  in  pity;  the  men  were  blind;  blindness 
is  a  terrible  affliction. 

"But,"  said  Sam  sympathizingly,  "after  the  stock 
turns  out  to  be  a  bonanza,  you  will  have  the  satisfac 
tion—" 

"But  no  gratitude.  I  sometimes  feel  like  relin 
quishing  my  management  of  the  road  and  devoting 
myself  to — " 

"But  you  couldn't  do  that,"  said  Sam.  "Surely, 
you  are  not  serious  ?  Why,  they  call  it  Colonel  Robin 
son's  railroad."  Sam  looked  eagerly  as  he  leaned  for 
ward  slightly  the  better. to  hear  the  Colonel's  answer. 

244 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"That's  what  they  call  it,"  assented  Colonel  Robin 
son  grimly,  "whenever  something  goes  wrong,  through 
no  fault  of  mine.  It's  my  road,  then  —  oh  yes! 
They  expect  miracles  and  expect  them  every  five 
minutes!"  Then  he  smiled  and  he  went  on  pleasantly: 
"  I  should  like  to  have  you  take  luncheon  with  me  here 
to-morrow  afternoon  and  afterwards  we  might  drive  to 
Capital  Park.  That  is,  of  course,  if  the  weather  per 
mits  and  such  a  thing  is  agreeable  to  you."  He  had 
dismissed  the  Virginia  Central  from  his  mind.  The 
leaves  of  the  trees  in  Capital  Park  were  dollars.  The 
Colonel  almost  heard  them  jingle  in  the  passing  breezes. 
There  were  millions  of  leaves  and  the  wind  was  blow 
ing  briskly.  They  were  ever  so  much  nearer  than 
Austin  County.  The  railroad  was  an  old  vexation  and 
Capital  Park  was  his  baby,  the  sweetest  ever. 

"Nothing  could  possibly  please  us  more,  Colonel 
Robinson,"  said  Darrell. 

"Nothing,"  echoed  Sam  pleasantly. 

Then  the  Colonel  told  them  stories. 


XVIII 

I^HEY  met  at  Colonel  Robinson's  office  the  next 
morning  by  appointment,  in  order  to  "talk  busi 
ness,"  as  Darrell  had  put  it.  Colonel  Robinson  silently 
hoped  they  would  buy  Capital  Park  Improvement 
Company  stock,  and  Sam  had  hoped,  also  silently,  that 
he  could  buy  Virginia  Central  stock.  What  the  Colo 
nel  audibly  hoped  was  that  they  had  enjoyed  a  good 
night's  rest.  They  hoped  he  felt  as  well  as  he  looked. 
He  did.  Smiles. 

There  was  a  pause.  Robinson  was  about  to  end  it 
with  a  premeditated  jocularity  when  Darrell  said: 

"Colonel,  we  shall  return  to  New  York  in  a  few  days. 
As  I  told  you  last  night,  we  have  been  looking  into  the 
Austin  County  coal-fields  and  we  think  there's  money 
in  them."  Darrell  abstained  from  mentioning  the 
Austin  Iron  Company. 

"There  certainly  is,"  acquiesced  the  Colonel.  He 
still  hoped  they  would  see  how  much  more  there  was 
in  real  estate  and  suburban  trolleys.  "You  are  mak 
ing  no  mistake." 

"We  are  not,"  assented  Darrell,  calmly,  "unless  the 
transportation  facility  should  continue  inadequate." 

"Continue?"  echoed  the  Colonel,  arching  his  eye 
brows  in  polite  surprise. 

"Surely  you  don't  think  you  could  handle  a  much 
bigger  tonnage  with  your  present  equipment?" 

246 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"As  I  said  before,  you  get  the  tonnage  and  we'll 
move  it."  The  Colonel  said  it  tranquilly.  His  tran 
quillity  would  have  impressed  them  had  they  not  known 
the  road's  condition,  physical  and  financial.  The 
Colonel  then  waited  for  more. 

"I  hope  you  will,"  went  on  Darrell.  "But,  even 
assuming  that  you  will  be  in  shape  to  do  so,  we  should 
like  to  feel  that  the  Virginia  Central  is  friendly  to  us." 
To  Sam,  Darrell  was  indirect.  There  was  no  frontal 
attack.  He  was  intimating  what  was  not  so. 

"Friendly  ?  Of  course  we'll  be  friendly!  We'd  help 
you  out  of  pure,  unadulterated  selfishness."  The 
Colonel  smiled  unselfishly. 

1 '  What  assurance  are  you  willing  to  give  us  that  you 
will  put  yourself  in  a  position  to  handle  the  traffic  we'll 
give  you?" 

' '  My  word, ' '  answered  Colonel  Robinson,  simply.  He 
looked  Homeric. 

Darrell  bowed.  This  play-acting  made  him  smile — • 
his  own  as  well  as  Robinson's.  He  looked  at  Sam  and 
almost  winked,  but  the  youngster's  face  was  too  serious. 
Sam  took  his  friend's  glance  as  a  cue  for  him  to  say 
something.  Thereupon  Sam  said,  with  much  positive- 
ness: 

"Colonel  Robinson,  I  consider  the  outlook  for  that 
section  of  the  country  very  bright  indeed  if  the  railroad 
could  be  brought  up  to  date.  All  that  is  needed  is 
capital.  I  think  we  could  help  the  Virginia  Central — " 

"If  the  Virginia  Central  will  help  us,"  interjected 
Darrell. 

"Having  been  considerately  prepared  for  the  worst," 
said  Colonel  Robinson,  with  a  genial  smile,  "suppose 
you  gentlemen  tell  me  exactly  what  it  is  you  desire?" 
The  president  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  looked 

247 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

at  Mr.  Darrell  as  if  he  welcomed  the  gladsome  oppor 
tunity  to  do  exactly  as  his  friend  wished,  no  greater 
pleasure  having  yet  been  discovered  by  this  world's 
experts  in  happiness. 

"A  schedule  of  rates,"  replied  Darrell  — •  a  trifle 
pugnaciously,  Sam  thought — "that  will  enable  us  to 
figure  on  sure  profits,  thereby  facilitating  my  work  of 
floating  a  big  coal  and  iron  company.  The  first  thing 
that  any  capitalist  will  ask  about  is  railroad  rates." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Darrell,  isn't  it  a  trifle  premature  to 
talk  of  a  coal  tonnage  before  you  own  a  single — " 

"Before  we  buy  a  foot  of  land  in  this  State  we've  got 
to  know  what  the  railroad  will  do  for  us." 

"As  I've  already  said,  sir,  when  you  show  us  the 
tonnage  I  will  show  you  satisfactory  rates."  The 
Colonel  looked  business-like.  He  was  very  versatile. 

"Colonel,"  said  Darrell,  bluntly,  "we  want  rates  from 
your  road  that  will  make  our  mines  pay.  Out  West  the 
railroads  back  up  infant  industries  with  actual  cash  and 
long  credits.  In  this  section  the  procedure  is  different, 
I  believe.  See  what  the  Great  Southern  is  doing  for  the 
Buffalo  Creek  Coal  Company." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Colonel  Robinson,  angrily,  "it  is 
being  milked  by  the  coal  company  which  is  owned  by 
the  president  of  the  Great  Southern  and  his  friends  in 
the  directorate  of  the  railroad.  The  railroad  stock 
pays  two  per  cent,  dividends  and  the  coal  company 
twelve.  The  railroad  insiders  own  very  little  of  the 
railroad  stock  and  all  of  the  coal  stock."  Colonel 
Robinson  did  not  wish  to  offend  these  gentlemen  nor 
to  hinder  the  urgently  needed  industrial  developments 
along  his  line,  but  he  would  not  permit  erroneous  im 
pressions  as  to  the  way  his  road  was  willing  to  do 
business. 

248 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"I  did  not  know  that/'  replied  Darrell,  apologetical 
ly.  "I  had  merely  heard  that  the  railroad  did  all  in 
its  power  to  help  the  Buffalo  Creek  enterprise." 

"So  it  does."  Colonel  Robinson  said  it  with  a  grim 
smile. 

"Of  course,  we  had  no  idea  of  asking  such  a  thing. 
We  want  to  get  out  Austin  County  coal  at  a  profit,  and 
we  want  all  the  aid  we  can  get  until  we  are  firmly  on 
our  feet.  We  have  to  create  a  market  for  that  coal. 
You  realize  that,  don't  you?"  Sam  was  vaguely 
irritated  by  Darrell 's  talk.  It  gave  him  a  feeling  of 
impatience  rather  than  of  indignation.  The  whole 
truth  could  not  be  told  to  Colonel  Robinson,  but,  of 
course,  no  unfair  advantage  would  be  taken  of  the 
Colonel's  ignorance. 

"Yes,  sir.  It  is  undoubtedly  so."  The  Colonel's 
air  as  he  looked  at  Darrell  was  one  of  felicitation — on 
Darrell 's  grasp  of  the  situation  and  its  exigencies. 

"We'll  have  to  spend  a  fortune  in  advertising — all 
kinds  of  advertising.  I  want  to  get  the  government  to 
use  it  on  the  trial  trips  of  the  new  war-ships  and  give 
that  fact  the  widest  publicity.  There  are  other  coal 
companies  already  laying  pipes  to  get  the  same  adver 
tisement.  It's  a  fine,  quick-firing  coal  and  ought  to  win 
on  its  merits.  But  merit  needs  pushing  and  pushing 
costs  money.  I  don't  mind  telling  you,"  said  Darrell, 
impressively,  ' '  that  options  on  all  the  producing  mines 
and  on  several  thousands  of  acres  of  coal  lands  in 
Austin  County  have  already  been  secured." 

Sam  admitted  to  himself  that  Darrell  had  very  care 
fully  not  lied,  and  that  if  they  secured  good  rates  and 
facilities  they  would  make  the  new  and  greater  Austin 
Iron  Company  a  success  whether  Sampson  Rock  secured 
the  control  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  or  not.  He 

249 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

did  not  feel  as  indignant  about  it  as  he  had  been  at 
Sampson  Rock's  misleading  truth-telling  in  Wall  Street. 
He  was  impatient  to  finish  this  preliminary  palaver 
and  eager  to  ask  Robinson's  price  for  his  railroad  stock. 
Robinson  must  know  they  were  in  earnest  and  had  big 
plans  in  mind.  He  blurted  out,  impatiently: 

"And  Mr.  Darrell  and  I  would  like  to  buy  out  the 
Austin  Iron  Company;  not  for  a  syndicate,  but  for 
ourselves." 

Darrell  flushed  violently  and  did  not  trust  himself  to 
look  at  Sam.  But  the  Colonel  opened  wide  his  eyes. 
Then  he  said,  with  a  successful  attempt  at  composure: 

"I  had  suspected  something  of  the  sort,  gentlemen." 
He  smiled  with  a  quiet  sort  of  mysteriousness,  as  a  man 
who  habitually  knows  everything  but  is  the  incarnation 
of  astute  taciturnity.  It  was  very  plain  to  Sam  that  the 
Colonel's  soul-crises  over  matters  of  veracity  were  not 
violent. 

"We  want  low  rates,"  said  Darrell,  quickly.  "We 
will  give  you  the  tonnage,  which  you  need  pretty  badly. 
You  establish  your  tariffs,  but  we  will  guarantee  you  a 
minimum  the  first  year  of  fifty  thousand  tons  more 
than  you  carried  last  year,  and  we  expect  that  you  will 
give  us — " 

"Our  road  has  never  given  rebates,"  interrupted 
Colonel  Robinson,  with  austere  solemnity.  But  his 
heart  began  to  beat  with  hope.  Darrell's  speech,  with 
its  promise  of  new  business,  was  as  a  lungful  of  fresh 
air  to  a  drowning  man.  It  showed  in  his  eyes.  Sam 
observed  it  and  mistook  the  gleam  for  the  last  of  the 
resistance.  He  concluded  that  the  Colonel  wished  to 
yield  and  at  the  same  time  to  save  his  self-respect. 

"Then  you  enjoy  the  proud  distinction  of  being 
unique  among  railroads  of  this  great  and  glorious  coun- 

250 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF   WALL   STREET 

try,  made  great  and  glorious  by  its  railroads,"  Darrell 
said,  amiably. 

"Never  mind  all  that,"  said  Sam.  "Colonel,  if  we 
are  going  to  get  out  a  tonnage  that  will  mean  plenty 
of  work  to  the  inhabitants  of  Austin  County  and  to  the 
railroad,  do  you  think  it  is  fair  we  should  do  all  the 
sweating?  What  do  you  say  to  an  increase  of  fifty 
thousand  tons  the  first  year,  one  hundred  thousand  the 
second,  two  hundred  thousand  the  third,  three  hundred 
thousand  the  fourth,  and  so  on  to  five  hundred  thousand 
tons  more  per  year  than  the  Virginia  Central  ever  car 
ried  before  ?  What  do  you  say  ought  to  be  done  by  the 
railroad?" 

That  was  so  much  more  than  the  Colonel  had  dared 
to  hope  that  he  was  tempted  to  think  these  men  were 
merely  talking  for  effect.  Men  who  could  do  such  things 
were  too  powerful  not  to  be  able  to  force  the  railroad  to 
do  everything  short  of  losing  money.  Yet  there  was 
only  one  railroad  into  Austin  County,  and  to  build  a 
new  line  from  Austin  to  either  tide-water  or  some  point 
on  another  and  more  complaisant  road  was  an  expense 
too  great  to  incur  by  the  coal  and  iron  company.  These 
men  had  given  him  information — to  be  verified  merely 
by  ascertaining  the  extent  of  Mr.  Darrell's  resources  in 
the  way  of  cash  and  reputation  in  New  York — which 
would  enable  him  to  cheer  the  pusillanimous  holders  of 
Virginia  Central  stock.  They  would  be  told  of  "im 
portant  developments,"  and  would  thank  the  sleepless 
president  of  the  road  for  his  efforts  in  the  road's  behalf. 
With  more  tonnage,  moreover,  bond  dealers  might  be 
less  unreasonable.  Robinson  habitually  thought  not  of 
the  present,  which  was  apt  to  be  cloudy,  but  of  the 
future,  which  always  was  rosy  with  the  incandescence 
of  aureate  hopes.  To-day  was  not  cloudy. 
17  251 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

"You  can  count  on  me,  gentlemen,"  he  assured  them, 
with  much  benignity.  He  carefully  avoided  looking 
triumphant  or  otherwise,  showing  that  he  was  thinking 
of  himself  and  of  the  fact  that  the  Virginia  Central  was 
the  only  road  into  the  Austin  coal-fields.  He  was  not 
in  their  power.  Give  and  take — that  was  the  science  of 
business.  There  was  no  need  to  think  of  what  he  might 
possibly  give;  but  he  saw  very  vividly  and  distinctly 
what  he  would  take. 

Sam,  more  from  intuition  than  from  any  mental 
analysis,  divined  a  part  of  what  was  passing  in  the 
Colonel's  mind,  and  he  said,  suddenly: 

"Not  one  cent  do  we  spend  in  Austin  County  or 
anywhere  else  along  the  line  of  the  Central  until  we 
know  what  to  expect  from  the  railroad.  Of  course, 
you  wouldn't  squeeze  us" — the  Colonel  put  on  a  look 
that  emphatically  denied  such  a  crime — "because  you 
wouldn't  kill  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  eggs;  be 
sides  which,  we  would  never  put  ourselves  in  a  position 
to  be  squeezed.  Iron-bound  contracts  or  nothing.  But 
will  you  give  us  adequate  facilities — " 

"Certainly,"  interrupted  the  Colonel,  earnestly.  "Of 
course."  And  he  smiled  a  trifle  pityingly. 

"You  haven't  them  now,  and  before  you  spend  money 
to  buy  cars  and  engines  you  naturally  will  make  certain 
of  our  ability  to  do  as  we  say.  We  don't  want  to  build 
another  road.  It  would  cost  less  to  buy  twenty-five 
or  thirty  thousand  shares  of  Virginia  Central  stock. 
It  would  give  us,"  finished  Sam,  who  himself  desired  now 
very  carefully  not  to  lie,  "representation  in  your  road." 

"It  certainly  would,"  assented  the  Colonel,  cordially. 
"A  most  excellent  idea."  He  did  not  feel  cordial. 
The  greatest  man  in  the  world  would  not  listen  to  a 
"bluff "  with  real  cordiality. 

252 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"If  you  buy  thirty  thousand  shares,  Sam,"  said  Dar- 
rell,  in  a  cold-shower  voice,  "it  will  tie  up  a  million 
dollars.  That's  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  loss  in 
interest,  or  just  about  the  profit  on  two  hundred  and 
fifty  or  three  hundred  thousand  tons  of  coal." 

"  It  would  prove  a  fine  investment,  sir!"  The  Colonel 
said  it  with  conviction.  He  might  be  able  to  issue 
treasury  stock  and  sell  it  to  these  people,  who  would  by 
no  means  control  the  road  thereby.  He  looked  sternly 
at  Darrell  until  the  thought  struck  him  that  these  men 
might  have  designs  on  the  road  as  well,  and  thereupon 
looked  encouragingly  —  that  there  might  be  further 
revelations. 

"I  have  no  desire  to  invest  in  railroad  stocks,"  said 
Darrell,  decisively.  "It's  out  of  my  line." 

"Colonel,"  put  in  Sam,  abruptly,  "your  road  needs 
money  as  much  as  the  Austin  County  mines  do.  You 
haven't  the  equipment  now,  but  we  might  be  able  to 
help  you  get  it.  But  before  taking  any  steps  in  the 
matter  of  pledging  ourselves  to  buy  the  stock  or  bonds 
that  you  would  have  to  issue  to  raise  the  money  needed, 
we  can't  be  rank  outsiders.  The  stock  is  now  selling 
around  thirty-five,  and  many  people  think  it  is  pretty 
high  at  that.  I  am  no  expert  on  values  of  stocks,  but 
I  know  that  after  we've  put  in  money  into  coal  and 
iron  here,  and  your  road's  in  better  physical  shape,  the 
stock  will  be  worth  more.  Therefore,  suppose  you  get 
us  options  on  a  block  of  the  stock  held  by  those  of  your 
acquaintances  who,  you  say,  are  grumbling  because  the 
stock  isn't  paying  dividends?" 

"You  mean  you  will  buy — " 

"No;  I  won't  buy  any  stock  outright;  but  for  an 
option  on,  say,  fifty  thousand  shares  at  a  price  a  little 
higher  than  the  stock  may  be  bought  for  to-day  in  the 

253 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

open  market,  I'm  willing  to  pay  whatever  you  think 
is  fair." 

"For  example?" 

"For  fifty  thousand  shares  at  forty  I'll  pay  two  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars.  That's  for  a  year's  option." 

"Two  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  said  Darrell,  "will 
drive  a  mighty  long  tunnel — " 

Colonel  Robinson  smiled  blandly  and  shook  his  head, 
both  of  which  vexed  Sam.  He  said: 

"Gentlemen,  all  I  can  say  is:  Go  ahead  and  develop 
the  mines  and  the  Virginia  Central  will  help  you  to  the 
best  of  its  ability.  As  for  the  option,  why,  the  stock 
will  sell  much  higher  before  the  year  is  out.  The  open 
market  is  before  you." 

"Without  such  developments  as  we  have  in  mind, 
you  must  realize  that  the  stock's  chances  of  selling  at 
higher  prices  are  remote." 

"I  decidedly  realize  nothing  of  the  sort.  We  have 
been  doing  business  a  week  or  two  and — " 

"Yes,  and — "  Sam  checked  himself.  "We  must 
have  time  to  promote  our  companies,  though  we  al 
ready  know  what  we  can  do.  I  don't  want  to  gamble 
in  railroad  stocks  and  I  have  no  desire  to  invest  money 
in  them  when  I  want  to  work  here  in  Virginia  develop 
ing  the  resources  of  the  State.  But,  of  course,  if  you 
don't  see  your  way  clear  to  pledging  the  Central  to 
help  us — 

"Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  interrupt  you,"  the  Colonel 
said,  with  much  dignity.  "We  want  more  business 
and  we'll  do  all  we  can  to  further  your  desires.  But 
although  I  might  promise  much  now,  I  can't  pledge 
my  railroad  to  go  into  bankruptcy  to  help  companies 
that,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  do  not  exist  as  yet  even  on 
paper." 

254 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"So  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Darrell,  coldly, 
"they  will  remain  on  paper  unless  we  can  reach  a 
written  agreement  with  your  road  in  the  matter  of 
rates.  Suppose  you  prepare  a  schedule  for  us  and — ' 

"We  don't  want  to  lose  time,"  Sam  interjected. 
"The  iron  trade  is  booming.  You  don't  think  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  buy  options  on  a  block  of  stock  from 
yourself  or  your  friends  at  a  price  sufficiently  above 
the  market-price  to  show  our  faith  in  Austin  County 
resources,  and  at  the  same  time  discount  some  of  the 
increase  in  value  our  mining  operations  would  bring 
the  stock?" 

"Not  one  share  of  my  holdings  is  for  sale  at  any 
price,  and  I  have  steadfastly  advised  my  f rends  to  hold 
theirs.  I  cannot  compel  them  to  hold.  But  I  do  not 
think  they  would  accept  any  such  absurd  price  as 
forty  dollars  a  share,  nor  would  they  childishly  allow 
any  strange  capitalists  to  deprive  them  of  their  voice 
in  the  management  of  their  road.  Moreover" — the 
Colonel  said  this  with  a  friendly  smile,  for  he  would  not 
close  the  door  on  developments  that  would  make  him 
a  very  rich  man — "I  do  not  think  that  the  voting 
power  of  fifty  thousand  shares  would  enable  you  as 
directors  of  the  railroad  to  vote  to  yourselves,  as 
directors  of  the  coal  company,  rates  that  would  bank 
rupt  the  road  in  a  year  or  two."  He  had  seen  their 
plot  and  he  was  not  angry.  He  was  tolerant  and,  yes, 
amused.  But,  then,  everything  is  fair  in  business. 

"Then  no  coal  lands  for  us,"  said  Sam,  with  much 
decision. 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide,  gentlemen."  Colonel 
Robinson  said  this  calmly.  Of  course,  these  men  would 
go  away  —  and  would  return  and  talk  rates.  Both 
sides  would  yield — one  side  a  few  inches  and  no  more — 

255 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

at  the  psychological  moment.  The  other  side,  realiz 
ing  the  uselessness  of  trying  to  get  more,  would  be 
content.  Darrell  confirmed  his  suspicions  by  saying: 

"Colonel,  will  you  think  over  this  matter,  and  just 
try  to  put  yourself  in  our  place,  and  also  consider 
fairly  how  much  it  is  worth  to  your  road  to  double  your 
tonnage  from  Austin?" 

"I  have  thought.  We  won't  cut  off  our  nose  to 
spite  our  face.  But  we  have  to  live.  Millions  for  de 
fence,  but  not  one  cent  for — " 

"Rebates!"  finished  Darrell,  smiling.  He  rose  to  go. 
"Of  course  our  talk  has  been  in  strict  confidence." 

"Of  course."  Colonel  Robinson  aimed  at  the  en 
gineer  a  rebuking  look  of  surprise.  But  Sam,  who  saw 
the  look,  was  not  impressed  with  the  Colonel's  his 
trionic  ability.  He  felt  certain  Robinson  would  tell 
everybody  that  a  new  era  of  prosperity  was  dawning 
for  the  Virginia  Central.  Nevertheless,  he  shook  hands 
warmly  and  said  he  would  call  again  as  soon  as  he  re 
turned  from  a  few  days'  absence  on  a  personal  business 
that  unexpectedly  called  him  away. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing  of  the  Colonel, 
Darrell  halted,  looked  at  Sam  steadily  a  minute  before 
he  spoke.  Then  he  said: 

"I'll  bet  there  never  was  your  equal  in  this  world 
for  sheer,  unadulterated — " 

"You  win,  Jack,"  said  Sam,  with  conviction. 


XIX 

T^ROM  time  to  time  Sam  endeavored  to  defend  his 
I  tactless  truth  -  telling,  which  had  succeeded  in 
making  Robinson  less  willing  to  sell  his  Central  stock, 
but  it  was  a  half-hearted  defence  at  best.  He  could  not 
claim  as  his  own  a  fanatical  devotion  to  the  truth. 
He  had  not  told  the  entire  truth  to  the  Colonel,  and  he 
recognized  that  such  a  thing  would  have  been  im 
possible,  or  at  all  events  highly  impolitic.  To  tell  less 
than  the  whole  truth,  granting  there  was  no  loss  of  self- 
respect  in  the  proceeding,  might  be  pardoned  if  the 
fractional  veracity  had  been  judiciously  selected.  This 
latter  was  Barrell's  contention,  made  all  the  more  irri 
tating  in  that  no  honest  reply  could  come  to  Sam's 
mind.  He  had  no  desire  to  be  an  altruist;  he  did  not 
feel  called  upon  to  lead  a  crusade  against  wealth  while 
there  was  one  unsuccored  pauper  in  the  wide  world. 
He  might  not  admit  it  to  himself,  but,  for  all  that, 
his  hatred  of  mendacity  was  now  qualified.  It  was  ly 
ing  for  money  that  he  hated.  He  did  not  think  it  the 
part  of  a  gentleman  ever  to  lie.  It  was  even  more  than 
cowardly — it  was  useless.  He  had  tried  to  be  honest 
and  veracious  in  his  dealings  with  Robinson.  He  had 
succeeded  in  being  honest,  but  only  to  the  extent  that 
he  had  endeavored  not  to  defraud.  Absolutely  truth 
ful  he  had  not  been,  and  all  he  had  gained  was  the  con- 

257 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

sciousness  that  his  half-truths  had  shown  how  absurd 
complete  veracity  would  have  been. 

This  feeling  of  impotence  to  be  completely  one  thing 
or  the  other  filled  him  with  a  sense  of  exasperation. 
He  had  experienced  a  check;  his  progress  towards  a  goal, 
that  hourly  became  more  pleasing  as  he  thought  of  the 
manifold  meanings  of  his  definite  arrival  at  it,  had 
been  impeded.  As  his  resentment  waxed  hotter,  he 
thought  less  of  himself  and  his  honorable  intentions 
and  more  of  Robinson.  There  was  no  doubt  of  it,  the 
president  of  the  Virginia  Central  was  one  of  the  dogs 
in  the  manger  whose  mission  in  life  was  to  convince 
strenuous  philanthropists  that  the  end,  after  all,  justi 
fies  the  means.  Indeed,  the  desire  to  get  Robinson's 
own  stock — or  rather  enough  shares  to  insure  the  pos 
session  of  the  control  of  the  road  itself — came  to  him; 
an  ardent  wish  to  supplant  a  phrase-drunken  visionary 
by  a  taciturn  but  highly  efficient  railroad  manager,  a 
chap  like  Rogers  of  the  Roanoke  working  under  Samp 
son  Rock.  Withal,  he  had  not  the  shadow  of  a  wish  to 
pay  other  than  a  fair  price  for  Robinson's  stock,  and 
even  more  than  a  fair  price  if  only  Robinson  could  be 
induced  to  sell  out  at  once.  When  this  had  crystallized 
in  his  mind,  the  juvenile  inconsistency  of  it  all,  the 
indifference  to  the  money  -  cost  in  a  purely  business 
transaction — an  indifference  which  plainly  arose  from 
his  ignorance  of  the  value  of  money — struck  him  humor 
ously.  He  laughed,  and  said  to  Darrell: 

"Jack,  I  am  all  you  think,  and  more,  too.  But  let 
us  give  Robinson  another  chance." 

"I  think  you'd  better  stick  to  the  iron  company  and 
leave  the  man's  work  to  your  father." 

Sam  flushed  because  Darrell  looked  very  much  in 
earnest,  but  he  smiled  good-humoredly  as  he  replied: 

258 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"Maybe  you  are  right,  Jack.  You  go  to  Austin  and  stir 
up  Fletcher  and  I'll  take  a  little  trip  over  the  Roanoke. 
That  will  give  Robinson  time  to  think  it  over. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  expect  he  will  do  a  heap  of  thinking  this  next 
week  or  two,  if  you  allow  your  father  to  work  undis 
turbed." 

The  same  thought  had  been  in  Sam's  mind,  and  with 
it  the  not  altogether  pleasant  realization  that  he  had 
become  an  accomplice  of  the  great  stock  manipulator 
in  his  unedifying  task.  The  work  that  his  father  was 
doing  did  not  now  have  the  same  power  to  arouse 
indignation  and  the  instinctive  opposition  that  had 
caused  their  great  misunderstanding.  It  could  not, 
even  without  causing  a  deterioration  in  the  moral  fibre, 
for  the  reason  that  he  now  realized  the  utter  futility  of 
straightforwardness  and  complete  veracity.  He  did 
not  think  of  the  difference  between  instigating  in  person 
attacks  on  Robinson's  credit  and  taking  advantage  of 
similar  attacks  made  by  some  one  else.  The  unwaver 
ing  desire  to  pay  a  fair  money  price  was  as  the  light  of 
an  antique  alabaster  lamp,  poetical,  but  dim.  It  made 
motives  shadowy  and  intentions  flickering.  By  going 
away  now  he  would  let  events  shape  themselves.  Noth 
ing  could  possibly  happen  in  his  absence  that  would 
make  his  task  any  more  difficult  than  it  was  now,  and 
he  would  have  time  to  think  of  Robinson  and  plan  a 
course  of  action  even  while  he  acquainted  himself  with 
the  railroad,  the  development  of  which  was  his  father's 
sole  motive-power  in  business.  Patience  would  not 
come  hard  after  realizing  that  it  was  absolutely 
necessary. 

Darrell  went  to  Austin,  uninstructed  and  in  good 
humor,  while  Sam,  under  the  tutelage  of  Rogers, 
division  superintendent  and  famous  railroad  expert, 

259 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

made  an  "exhaustive  trip  "  over  the  Roanoke.  He  saw 
his  father's  road  from  the  observation- windows  of  the 
president's  private  car,  looking  through  the  eyes  of  an 
expert  who  pointed  out  nothing  but  the  excellent  work 
done  and  doing  under  the  supervision  of  the  modest 
Mr.  Rogers.  Never  had  Mr.  Rogers  suggested  im 
provements  that  Sampson  Rock  had  not  promptly 
telegraphed  from  New  York,  "Go  ahead."  To  make 
a  fine  road  for  a  man  who  did  not  want  and  would  not 
have  any  other  kind,  Rogers  told  Sam,  was  like  being 
in  heaven.  The  result — of  Mr.  Rogers 's  suggestions 
and  Sampson  Rock's  financial  bravery  and  resources 
— was  before  Sam.  The  Roanoke  was  making  money. 
It  would  make  much  more.  Factories  were  going  up 
— many  of  them  on  paper,  but  none  the  less  impressive 
for  all  that — along  the  line  of  the  railroad;  the  popula 
tion  was  increasing;  the  people  were  prosperous  and 
working  as  never  before ;  real-estate  booms  were  heard 
of  here  and  there;  farms  were  paying,  money  was 
circulating  freely,  and  all  about  him,  besides  the 
agricultural  activity  visible  from  the  windows,  Sam 
could  see  new  cars,  new  locomotives,  new  stations,  con 
struction  gangs  at  work  on  sidings  and  switches — the 
tireless  spirit  of  Sampson  Rock  omnipresent. 

Unconsciously  Rogers,  in  his  explanation  of  the  out 
wardness  and  inwardness  of  what  they  saw,  did  much 
to  change  Sam's  point  of  view  towards  his  father's 
business  methods.  What  Sam  saw  excused  much. 
It  took  the  sting  from  many  reproaches,  it  made  the 
suffering  of  the  individual  a  matter  of  less  importance 
until  vague  regrets  seemed  more  natural  than  heart- 
wrung  tears.  As  he  studied  the  Roanoke  under  the 
tuition  of  Mr.  Rogers,  he  wrote  to  Fanny — long  letters 
containing  very  little  of  himself  and  very  much  about 

260 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

the  road  and  the  work  and  the  inspiration  of  the  work, 
so  that  Fanny  rejoiced  and  answered,  accordingly,  and 
he  wrote  again.  In  his  wish  to  interest  her,  he  in 
tensified  his  own  interest  until  he  was  full  to  over 
flowing  with  a  resolve  to  devote  his  life  to  doing  such 
work  as  his  father  had  done.  He  most  certainly  would 
be  with  Rogers  when  Rogers  was  intrusted  with  the 
modernization  of  the  Virginia  Central.  He  wrote  at 
length  to  his  father — enthusiastic  descriptions  of  what 
he  had  seen  as  well  as  many  echoes  of  the  modest  Rog- 
ers's  expert  utterances.  Ten  days  later  he  went  back 
to  Richmond. 

Darrell  would  not  return  from  Austin  until  the  follow 
ing  day,  and  Sam  called  on  Judge  Abercrombie. 

"I  am,  indeed,  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Rock."  The 
Judge  scrutinized  him  caressingly.  "Your  trip,"  he 
ventured,  tentatively  felicitating,  "certainly  seems  to 
have  agreed  with  you.  Did  you  enjoy  it?" 

"Very  much.     It  won't  be  my  last  trip." 

"Rogers  is  an  able  man,"  Abercrombie  said — "a  very 
able  man.  Your  father,  I  think,  has  a  genius  for  rec 
ognizing  talent." 

"I  like  Rogers."  Sam  confirmed  his  father's  judg 
ment.  "By-the-way,  have  you  seen  anything  of  Colo 
nel  Robinson  lately?" 

"Oh  yes.  He  has  been  very  active — and  very  vol 
uble."  The  Judge  smiled.  "Perhaps  I  should  have 
said  loquacious.  He  has  been  telling  everybody  that 
very  important  developments  were  pending,  and  has 
written  to  his  London  agents — so  I  have  been  reliably 
informed — of  great  plans  for  improving  the  road  and 
getting  the  facilities  to  handle  an  approaching  increase 
in  traffic.  To  his  more  intimate  friends  he  has  hinted 
that  the  coal-fields  of  Austin  County — " 

261 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

Sam  frowned.  Judge  Abercrombie  went  on,  a  trifle 
deprecatingly:  "I  suppose  some  of  the  people  whom 
Mr.  Morson  saw  must  have  given  him  an  inkling  of  the 
deal.  At  all  events,  the  Colonel  went  to  Austin  last 
week.  His  coming  back  and  his  loquacity  were  syn 
chronous." 

There  was  a  silence.  At  length  Sam,  with  an  effort 
that  was  not  apparent  to  Abercrombie,  suggested, 
calmly,  "I  think  you  had  better  write  to  my  father 
about  it." 

' '  I  have  done  so.  This  morning  I  received  this  tele 
gram: 

"  '  Thanks.  Keep  us  fully  informed.  Discourage  belief  that 
options  will  be  exercised.  Continue  searches  and  arrange  final 
papers. — MORSON.'  " 

Sam's  feeling  of  relief  that  his  indiscretion  had  not 
upset  his  father's  plans  made  him  overlook  the  in 
structions  as  to  the  discouragement  of  the  coal -land 
owners'  hopes,  the  latter  properly  being  for  effect  on 
the  over-optimistic  Robinson.  He  was  concerned  with 
his  own  Austin  Iron  Company  deal  and  was  anxious  to 
learn  what  progress  had  been  made  by  Darrell  and 
Fletcher.  When  he  left  Richmond,  Austin  shares  had 
been  quoted  at  thirty-five  to  forty,  but  that  morning 
he  had  seen  the  latest  quotation  in  the  broker's  office 
which  adjoined  the  hotel.  They  were  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five.  He  had  wondered,  curiously  rather  than 
indignantly,  how  the  drop  in  the  quoted  price  had  been 
achieved.  Fletcher's  versatility  might  have  taken  a 
new  turn  and  possibly  had  helped  to  offset  Robinson's 
oratory. 

Rogers,  the  able  and  modest  superintendent  of  the 
Roanoke's  Western  division,  was  waiting  in  the  hotel 

262 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

lobby  for  his  pupil.  At  the  sight  of  Sam  the  able 
superintendent  put  on  a  grateful  smile: 

"Mr.  Rock,  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you." 

" For  what?" 

"For  the  raise." 

"What  raise?"  Sam  was  puzzled  and  looked  it. 
His  ignorance  made  him  rise  in  Rogers's  estimation.  It 
proved  to  the  superintendent  that  young  Rock  was  in 
the  confidence  of  the  great  Sampson  Rock.  It  be 
hooved  him  to  cultivate  his  young  benefactor. 

"My  salary  has  been  raised  a  thousand  a  year.  New 
York  orders."  Rogers's  delight  was  distinctly  visible 
to  the  naked  eye.  It  was  not  alone  the  increase;  but 
the  superintendent  had  tried  to  make  a  good  impres 
sion  on  the  master's  son  and  had  succeeded.  Success 
cheers  because  it  is  the  most  insidious  form  of  flattery 
— self-flattery. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  of  it,  Rogers,"  laughed  Sam. 
"You  deserve  it;  but  I  am  not  guilty." 

"It  is  very  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Rock,  and  all  I  can  say 
is—" 

"I  tell  you  I  didn't  do  it.  Such  letters  as  I  wrote  to 
my  father  were  entirely  about  personal  matters." 

"Well,  it  happened  as  soon  as  we  got  back,"  said 
Rogers,  in  a  pleasantly  controversial  tone.  "Wages 
have  been  advanced  ten  per  cent,  all  along  the  line." 
Rogers  looked  at  Sam  as  though  he  expected  fresh  con 
tradictions,  which  would  be  entirely  useless,  for  he  had 
told  Sam  how  business  was  increasing  and  how  the 
morale  of  the  operating  force  was  improving.  "It  is  a 
stroke  of  genius  on  your  father's  part — you  notice  " — 
Rogers  smiled  a  significant  smile  at  the  denying  Sam — • 
' '  you  notice  I  say  your  father — to  anticipate  voluntarily 
what  was  bound  to  come  in  a  few  months,  after  a  lot 

263 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

of  meetings  and  resolutions  and  discontent,  and  no 
gratitude  when  the  raise  did  come.  This  will  please  the 
boys  and  it  advertises  the  road's  prosperity.  The  boys 
all  think  they  owe  this  to  you.  In  fact,  I've  told 
them—" 

"Then  untell  them,'*  said  Sam,  decisively. 

"They'd  still  believe  it  was  you,  no  matter  what  I 
said  to  the  contrary,"  said  Rogers.  The  men  had  learn 
ed  that  Rogers  had  suggested  it  to  young  Rock  and 
young  Rock  to  old  Rock  and  old  Rock  to  President 
Leigh,  all  because  of  Rogers,  who  knew  the  men 
would  work  better  for  him  and  thus  it  would  help  the 
Roanoke — and  Rogers.  "Your  father  wrote  Leigh  to 
make  it  appear  it  came  from  the  Richmond  office  with 
out  instructions  from  New  York.  He  wants  results 
and  not  personal  popularity.  That's  why  we  swear  by 
him,  even  if  he  didn't  begin  as  a  brakeman,"  he  finished, 
enthusiastically.  The  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  in- 
cease  in  the  Rogers  income  was  conducive  to  hero- 
worship,  but  apart  from  that  Sam  himself  could  not  help 
a  feeling  of  admiration  for  his  father.  He  shook  hands 
with  the  hero  -  worshipper  and  sat  down  to  read  the 
Richmond  papers,  which  devoted  some  columns  to  the 
Roanoke 's  action. 

It  was  not  until  three  days  afterwards  that  Sam  read 
in  the  same  papers  that  there  were  "ugly  mutterings 
of  discontent ' '  from  the  employes  of  the  Virginia  Cen 
tral  and  the  Great  Southern  roads,  but  particularly 
the  Virginia  Central.  Also  he  read  that  Mr.  W.  P. 
St.  John,  the  well-known  traffic  manager  of  the  fa 
mous  Allegheny  &  Ohio  River  Railroad,  had  decided 
not  to  accept  the  general  managership  of  the  Virginia 
Central,  an  offer  he  had  had  under  consideration  for 
some  months.  This,  the  papers  added — each  curiously 

264 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

enough  using  the  identical  words  of  the  others — had 
greatly  disappointed  the  hopes  of  the  more  progressive 
element  among  the  Central  stockholders. 

Darrell  reached  Richmond  at  noon,  accompanied  by 
Fletcher,  who  came  to  attend  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Austin  Iron  Company.  Late  that  afternoon  the  little 
manager  went  to  Darren's  room  at  the  hotel — Sam's 
name  not  being  on  the  hotel-register  on  account  of  the 
reporters.  Fletcher's  face  was  composed  enough,  but 
his  eyes  sparkled  impressively.  He  addressed  himself 
to  Darrell. 

"  It  happened  exactly  as  I  told  you  it  would."  Paus 
ing  a  few  seconds  to  allow  that  to  sink  in,  he  went  on: 
"That  closing  down  of  No.  3  came  at  the  psychological 
moment.  I  spoke  freely  to  them  and  told  them  we 
had  to  raise  money  and  probably  buy  our  own  cars. 
Colonel  Robinson  tried  to  get  them  to  pledge  them 
selves  to  raise  a  half -million  by  an  issue  of  bonds,  but 
when  Westlake  asked  him  how  much  he  would  sub 
scribe  for,  the  Colonel  said  he'd  take  as  big  a  slice  as  the 
next  man.  The  next  man  happened  to  be  old  Morton, 
and  all  he  said  was:  'I  pass,  Colonel.'  That  really 
ended  it.  Why,  they  couldn't  raise  half  a  million  cents 
in  half  a  million  years."  He  paused  triumphantly. 

"Well?"     Darrell  spoke  impatiently. 

"The  Colonel  would  have  it  that  they  didn't  need 
half  a  million  dollars,  and  I  said  we  didn't  need  it  if  the 
Central  gave  us  more  cars  and  carried  a  little  of  our 
paper  just  to  encourage  an  infant  industry,  which 
every  railroad  did.  To  cut  a  long  story  short,  they 
voted  to  make  repairs  out  of  earnings,  and  I  said, 
'Then,  gentlemen,  no  dividends  for  five  years,  and  I  say 
five  years  because  I'm  naturally  a  hopeful  sort  of  cuss.' 
Robinson  said,  very  sarcastic-like,  that  it  would  not 

265 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

take  that  many  years  to  find  a  less  hopeful  manager, 
and  that  there  was  no  reason  why  dividends  and  re 
pairs  couldn't  happen  at  the  same  time.  I  said  I'd 
pay  the  expenses  of  the  search  for  the  man  who  could 
work  wonders  by  putting  in  thirty  hours  out  of  the 
twenty  -  four,  and  besides  be  his  own  chemist,  book 
keeper,  mining  engineer,  and  cook,  and  that  my  res 
ignation  was  in  their  hands,  to  take  effect  whenever 
they  said  so.  That  took  the  wind  out  of  their  sails." 
He  looked  at  Sam,  conqueror-like,  but  Sam  asked  him, 
quietly: 

"How  did  the  accident  to  No.  3  happen?" 

"How?  Because  it  was  due  to  happen.  It's  a 
miracle  we  didn't  get  it  earlier." 

"Aha!"  muttered  Sam.  Perhaps  it  was  merely  good 
luck.  He  desired  the  Austin  Iron  Company  more 
than  ever,  since  he  had  decided  to  witness  with  his  own 
eyes  the  regeneration  of  the  Virginia  Central  under 
Rogers,  as  soon  as  the  control  of  the  Central  passed  to 
the  Roanoke. 

"You  don't  think  I  did  it  on  purpose,  Mr.  Rock?" 
asked  Fletcher,  with  a  sort  of  politely  amused  look. 
"It's  just  as  I've  told  you.  I've  had  to  take  all  sorts 
of  chances,  because  my  people  pushed  me  and  were 
keen  for  more  dividends.  They  got  what  they  de 
served  It's  the  old  penny- wise,  pound-foolish  policy. 
It  doesn't  pay." 

"Getting  down  to  business,  what  did  you  do  about 
our  matter?"  asked  Darrell,  coldly. 

Fletcher  very  impressively  took  a  little  memoran 
dum-book  from  his  pocket  and  read  aloud  from  it: 
"Nine  thousand  three  hundred  shares.  But  they  must 
have  their  money  this  week,  and  the  option  is  good  for 
thirty  days  only  in  most  cases.  On  thirty-six  hundred 

266 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

shares  I've  got  sixty  days.  When  I  saw  that  all  we 
needed  to  cinch  the  control  was  eight  hundred  shares, 
I  didn't  fight  for  the  six  months'  time." 

"Our  terms  were  based  on  six  months — "  began 
Darrell. 

But  Sam  broke  in;  he  felt  that  he  had  the  control, 
and  the  terms  of  payment  concerned  him  least  of  all: 

"I'll  pay  you  the  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  I 
promised  you  now.  And  keep  on  trying  to  get  as 
much  more  of  the  stock  as  you  can.  Suppose  you  turn 
it  in  to  me  at  cost,  plus  five  per  cent,  commission  to 
yourself?" 

Darrell  smiled,  because  he  understood  Sam's  eager 
ness  and  rather  liked  the  gambler-like  decision.  But 
Fletcher  figured  rapidly.  He  had  made  a  handsome 
profit  on  the  nine  thousand  three  hundred  shares  he 
had  already  secured,  and  would  make  more.  He  saw 
a  broad  avenue  before  him,  suitable  for  rapid  locomo 
tion  and  paved  with  gold.  In  the  distance,  dimly,  he 
descried  the  Fletcher  mansion  and  a  mob  of  future  ad 
mirers  listening  to  the  most  interesting  talker  in  the 
world.  This  was  the  road  to  fame  and  fortune.  He 
literally  burned  to  work  for  his  new  masters,  who  had 
presented  to  him  on  a  golden  salver  the  opportunity 
that  made  him  a  great  engineer  and  a  rich  man.  He 
blinked  his  eyes  in  order  to  awake. 

"It  suits  me.  But  more  than  anything  else  I  want 
to  see  you  get  the  company  and  make  things  hum," 
he  said,  with  a  happy  laugh.  "I'm  beginning  to  get 
gray  hairs  waiting  to  start." 

Sam  wrote  out  a  check  for  twenty-five  thousand 

dollars  to  Fletcher's  order,  and  gave  it  to  the  little 

manager  silently.      He  changed  his  mind  and  spoke, 

in  a  kindly  voice:  "This  is  the  first,  Fletcher.     I  hope 

18  267 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

it  won't  be  the  last;  but  that  depends  upon  you." 
He  turned  to  Darrell  in  time  to  detect  the  ghost  of  a 
smile  on  the  Westerner's  lips,  and  said:  "Jack,  I'm 
going  to  send  some  telegrams.  Excuse  me  a  few  min 
utes,  Fletcher.  Just  talk  matters  over  with  Darrell,  will 
you?" 

Darrell  accompanied  Sam  to  the  door. 

"What's  on  your  heavy-weight  mind,  Sam?" 

"That  I'm  going  to  need  a  heap  of  money  and  need 
it  quick.  Now  that  we've  got  the  iron  company,  I'm 
going  after  the  real  article.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

He  telegraphed  to  Valentine  to  deposit  to  his  credit 
at  the  Metropolitan  thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  to  his 
father  he  sent  this  message: 

"Have  drawn  on  Metropolitan  National  Bank  to  order  of 
Darrell  for  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Please  see  that  the 
money  is  forthcoming.  Have  found  immensely  valuable  prop 
erty.  Darrell  puts  in  as  much  as  I.  Am  sure  you  will  approve 
my  action. — SAM." 

He  went  back  to  hear  the  discussion  between  Fletcher 
and  Darrell,  conscious  of  a  rather  mild  excitement  at 
having  burned  his  bridges  behind  him.  He  had  de 
cided  what  his  own  future  should  be,  and  the  pros 
pect  pleased  him.  It  was  not  long  before  the  answer 
to  this  telegram  came: 

"Certainly  not.    Stop  draft  at  once.    Come  home. — S.  R." 

Sam  frowned;  then  he  laughed  and  wrote,  Darrell 
looking  over  his  shoulder  as  he  did  so: 

"Too  late  to  stop  anything.  Have  had  best  advice.  You 
are  getting  off  cheap. — SAM." 

268 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Darrell  said,  seriously:  "Take  out  that  last  alleged 
witticism.  Perhaps  you'd  better  do  as  he  says  and 
go  back." 

"Not  yet,"  retorted  Sam.  "Leave  the  Colonel  now? 
What  are  you  thinking  of  ?"  He  gave  the  answer — un 
changed — to  the  waiting  boy,  and  said:  "Please  have 
this  go  at  once.  You  can  keep  the  change  if  you  hurry 
up." 

The  messenger  earned  his  money. 

Fletcher  had  carefully  but  gleefully  figured  that  not 
more  than  fifty  thousand  dollars  cash  would  be  needed 
for  the  next  fortnight,  and,  having  dismissed  the  mat 
ter  of  the  options  from  his  mind,  was  grandly  building 
the  model  iron  plant  of  the  South  for  his  new  master. 
His  enthusiasm  pleased  Sam.  Fletcher  had  quadrupled 
the  capacity  and  decupled  the  net  earnings  when  an 
other  telegram  came  for  Sam.  It  was  brief: 

"  Return  immediately. — S.  R." 

He  passed  it  to  Darrell,  who  said,  seriously:  "I  told 
you  perhaps  you'd  better.  Anybody  else  would  have 
wired  the  Judge  to  have  you  examined  by  a  commis 
sioner  of  lunacy." 

"Yes?"  said  Sam,  absently.  He  rose  and,  walking 
to  a  window,  stared  at  the  sunset  for  a  full  minute.  He 
went  back  to  the  table,  sat  down,  and  wrote  slowly: 

"  If  necessary  sell  half  my  mother's  bonds.  If  you  don't  I 
shall  telegraph  the  bank  to  do  so  for  my  account.  Draft  must 
be  honored.  I  mean  business. — SAM.!' 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  Darrell,  quickly,  as  Sam  was 
about  to  give  it  to  the  boy — the  same  boy  that  had 
earned  his  money  before.  He  read  it  and  looked  at  Sam, 

269 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

making  no  motion  to  return  the  message.  Sam  looked 
at  Darrell  and  extended  his  hand.  Darrell  shook  his 
head  dubiously. 

"Sam,  you  don't  need  that  much.    Why  don't  you — " 

"I  think  I'll  need  it  before  I'm  done,  and  I'm  taking 
no  chances." 

"Then  take  it  down  yourself,"  advised  Darrell,  re 
turning  the  telegram.  "I  think  you'd  better  send  it 
from  the  main  office,  next  block.  We'll  all  go  down. 
Fletcher,  get  a  hustle  on  with  the  rest  of  the  stock  and 
keep  in  touch  with  me." 

They  left  the  room  together.  In  the  lobby  they  met 
Colonel  Robinson,  who  bowed  amiably  and  was  about 
to  speak  to  them  when  he  saw  Fletcher  in  their  com 
pany.  His  face  thereupon  took  on  a  look  of  dignified 
austerity  and  he  passed  on. 

The  dogs  in  the  manger  of  the  business  world,  the 
industrial  incompetents  who  must  go  to  the  wall — 
they  need  not  be  killed,  but  they  had  begun  to  irritate 
Sam  as  he  compared  the  Roanoke  with  the  Virginia 
Central.  Now  that  he  owned  the  control  of  the 
Austin  Iron  Company  and  he  had  seen  how  Rogers 
worked,  and  understood  what  could  be  done  in  the  way 
of  improving  properties  legitimately  for  the  benefit  of 
the  entire  community,  he  perceived  more  clearly  than 
ever  before  what  work  meant.  It  was  not  pleasant  to 
think  that  anybody  or  anything  might  come  in  the 
way  of  a  man  with  honest  intentions  and  an  ideal. 

They  were  at  dinner  when  Sam  heard  again  from  his 
father. 

"We'll  save  it  for  dessert,"  smiled  Sam. 

"No;  read  it  now,"  said  Darrell. 

"Draft will  be  paid.  Hon't  do  it  again.  Come  home  at 
once. — S.  R." 

270        ' 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"No  answer,"  Sam  told  the  waiting  boy. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Darrell. 

"I'm  going  to  wire  my  thanks  and  a  promise  to  be 
more  economical  next  week,  when  I  may  draw  again, 
and  I  am — ' '  He  paused  and  stared  fixedly  at  a  corner 
of  the  dining-room.  Darrell  followed  his  gaze,  saw 
nobody  in  the  corner,  and  said: 

1 '  Wake  up ,  Sammy.    What  is  it  you  are  going  to  do  ? " 

"I'm  going  to  get  Robinson's  stock.  It  might  as 
well  be  done  now  as  later." 


XX 

THE  Richmond  World,  on  the  next  morning,  pub 
lished  a  ten -column  expose  of  the  iniquities  of 
tax-dodging  corporations  which  waxed  fat — and  corre 
spondingly  wickeder — by  sucking  the  life-blood  of  the 
helpless  people.  Legalized  leeches,  the  paper  said 
they  were,  who  if  they  were  but  trodden  upon  by  the 
righteous  foot  of  aroused  civic  pride  and  the  relentless 
heel  of  common  honesty  would  exude  stolen  millions 
from  their  insatiable  pores.  There  was  a  stirring  appeal 
to  the  righteous  foot  of  civic  pride,  and  the  peroration 
was  a  single  word  in  big,  black  letters — "  DISGORGE !" 
It  might  have  been  jaundiced  rhetoric,  worthy  of  a 
Metropolitan  Champion  of  the  People  at  a  cent  a  copy, 
but  it  was  clear  that  the  paper's  indignation  would  last 
an  entire  "campaign"  against  the  tax  -  dodging  cor 
porations.  All  the  railroads  were  accused  of  vampire 
practices  on  the  people,  but  the  World's  "incontrovert 
ible  statistics  of  graft,"  and  "mathematical  measure 
ments  of  the  thefts,  past,  present,  and  contemplated," 
concerned  the  Virginia  Central  alone.  The  others'  turn, 
the  paper  darkly  threatened,  would  come  later,  dishon 
orable  precedence  being  given  to  the  Virginia  Central 
because  it  was  the  most  brazen  offender  of  the  lot. 

Sam  and  Darrell  read  the  article  together. 

"Say,  that  galoot  can  sling  ink,  all  right,  can't  he?" 
said  Darrell,  laughing. 

272 


"'THE    ROANOKE    IS    ACCUSED,    TOO  '    POINTED    OUT    SAM 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"The  Roanoke  is  accused,  too,"  pointed  out  Sam. 
There  was  a  trace  of  self-defence  in  his  tone. 

"Of  course.  Why  leave  out  the  Roanoke?  It 
would  have  been  stupid,  and  I  don't  suppose — " 

"It  might  have  been  Leigh  or  the  Judge,"  interrupt 
ed  Sam. 

"  It  might,"  said  Darrell,  dryly. 

"Why  not?" 

"Why  not,  indeed?  They  live  here  and  they  know 
the  newspapers." 

Sam  did  not  answer.  He  did  not  like  DarreH's  in 
sinuation  that  the  World's  virtuous  campaign  had  been 
planned  in  a  Wall  Street  office.  But  he  admitted  to 
himself  rather  dispassionately  that  Robinson  was  dif 
ficult  to  deal  with  by  direct  methods,  and  not  everybody 
possessed  the  patience  to  sit  down  and  calmly  study 
ways  and  means  whereby  to  persuade  an  inefficient 
railroad  president  not  to  continue  to  obstruct  the 
march  of  progress.  He  himself  felt  a  great  desire  to 
say  to  Robinson: 

"Look  here,  Colonel,  sell  me  your  stock  at  a  good, 
fair  price,  because  you  have  neither  the  ability  nor  the 
capital  to  do  what  is  needed." 

But  that  merely  would  wound  the  Colonel's  vanity; 
it  would  turn  the  anger  engendered  by  the  telling  of  such 
a  truth  to  such  a  man  into  sheer,  asinine  stubbornness. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Sam's  disgust  at  his  father's  busi 
ness  methods,  even  at  the  outset,  had  probably  been 
aesthetic  rather  than  ethical;  more  the  shudder  at  eat 
ing  beside  a  man  who  masticated  audibly  or  misused 
his  knife  than  the  protest  of  an  aroused  conscience. 
Yet  for  all  that  his  point  of  view  had  changed  and  was 
changing,  Sam  felt  that  the  Colonel  should  not  be 
financially  slain  by  the  efficient  foe  of  inefficiency,  who 

273 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

was  even  then  training  his  long-range  artillery  on  the 
unsuspecting  Robinson.  In  deciding,  as  Sam  did,  to 
give  the  doomed  man  one  more  chance,  he  was  con 
scious  of  a  magnanimity  not  altogether  business-like, 
for  some  of  the  money  that  he  would  offer  might  per 
haps  be  better  employed  on  the  improvement  of  the 
road  itself  than  on  the  increasing  of  Robinson's  bank 
account.  He  must  learn  from  Abercrombie  the  precise 
condition  of  the  Colonel's  finances,  in  order  the  better 
to  judge  to  what  extent  he  might  be  magnanimous 
without  being  too  great  an  ass.  Besides  which,  he  did 
not  have  money  enough  to  buy  the  Colonel's  stock  out 
right. 

The  lawyer  received  him  with  much  cordiality,  and 
almost  immediately  began  to  talk  about  the  World's 
attack  on  the  Virginia  Central. 

"It's  the  first  shot.  Wait  until  the  real  firing  be 
gins." 

"Have  you  seen  the  Colonel  this  morning?"  asked 
Sam.  He  had  no  desire  to  see  the  malevolent  machin 
ery  actually  at  work.  He  merely  wished  to  know  if 
Robinson's  mood  was  more  receptive. 

"Oh  yes!  He  deplores  the  obsolescence  of  the  code 
duello,  but  talks  horsewhip.  To-morrow,  I  understand, 
the  World  will  have  something  to  say  about  the  fran 
chises  the  land-development  and  trolley  companies  are 
trying  to  obtain  from  the  city  by  dishonorable  meth 
ods.  I  think  our  friend  will  consider  dynamite  more 
adequate  than  rawhide."  The  Judge's  humorously 
pitying  smile  told  Sam  whence  the  inspiration  of  the 
articles  came. 

"It  doesn't  seem  quite  a  fair  game,  Judge,"  Sam  said, 
thoughtfully,  "but  I  will  admit  that  Colonel  Robinson 
is  a  little  difficult  to  convince  by  other  methods."  His 

274 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

own  dealings  with  the  Central's  optimistic  president  had 
come  to  naught.  His  more  than  puerile  tactlessness 
had  been  because  he  had  not  then  had  clear  ideas  on 
what  he  desired  to  do.  The  ideas  had  since  been  under 
going  clarification. 

"He  is  all  you  say,  Mr.  Rock." 

41  How  can  such  a  man  have  been  president  of  a  rail 
road?" 

"Well,  he  was  younger  and  more  active  after  the 
war,  and  his  social  connections  were  of  the  best.  He 
did  well  enough  in  his  day.  But  that  was  before  com 
petition  came  and  before  we  awoke  to  the  value  of  our 
natural  resources  when  scientifically  developed.  He 
is  an  anachronism  in  trousers  and  a  goatee.  He  is  a 
good  talker  and  was  once  able  to  raise  needed  capital — 
before  he  had  demonstrated  his  inability  to  do  sys 
tematic  and  intelligent  work.  Even  now,  many  people 
consider  him  a  good  railroad  man  because  they  have 
never  seen  a  man  like  Leigh,  of  the  Roanoke;  I  don't 
mention  your  father,  because  he  is  in  a  class  by  himself. 
Colonel  Robinson  has  this  week  lost  his  best  lieutenant, 
George  Witherspoon,  who  has  been  appointed  superin 
tendent  of  the  Roanoke's  seaboard  division." 

Sam's  mind  jumped  to  an  office  in  Wall  Street  where 
a  man  with  a  thousand  eyes  and  ten  thousand  hands 
was  at  work,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  ticker-tape,  reading 
characters  that  meant  not  dollars,  more  dollars,  but  far 
greater  things — a  man  at  work,  in  love  with  work — 
big  work — doing  it  calmly,  scientifically,  relentlessly; 
not  thinking  of  doing  it  as  soon  as  certain  fine  points 
of  ethics  had  been  cleared,  but  doing  it.  And  Robin 
son.  .  .  . 

"Major  Witherspoon  was  the  most  popular  man  in 
the  Central,"  continued  Judge  Abercrombie,  blandly, 

275 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL    STREET 

"and  from  what  I  hear,  the  men — his  old  operating 
force — are  talking  of  striking  unless  wages  are  raised 
and  certain  conditions  are  changed.  Since  the  Roan- 
oke  raised  wages  the  Great  Southern  has  been  forced 
to  promise  an  advance  to  begin  September  i  st.  As  for 
the  Central — " 

"Oh!  So  that's  what  the  raise  meant  ?"  mused  Sam, 
aloud. 

"I  only  know  what  it  will  mean  if  the  Central  does 
not  do  likewise.  Also  what  it  will  mean  to  its  treasury 
if  it  does.  An  increase  in  its  operating  expenses  is  no 
laughing  matter." 

"I  suppose  my  father  knows  about  this  agitation?" 

"Oh  yes.  Your  father  knows  everything  that  is 
going  on  in  this  State  having  any  bearing,  however 
remote,  on  his  own  or  any  other  railroad.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  even  if  I  didn't  write  to  him  every  day,  he  would 
know  from  the  New  York  papers.  They've  all  been 
receiving  long  despatches  from  their  Richmond  corre 
spondents.  You  see,  this  railroad  agitation  has  also  a 
very  interesting  political  end  to  it." 

He  smiled.  The  Roanoke's  credit  was  better  than 
that  of  any  other  big  corporation  in  the  State  and  its 
purse-strings  were  tied  the  loosest.  He  was  its  chief 
adviser  in  political  matters.  He  was  in  the  pleasant 
position  of  actually  not  being  able  to  help  the  Roanoke 
without  at  the  same  time  helping  his  own  personal 
political  aspirations.  For  how  could  the  politicians, 
the  big  bosses  and  the  little  local  leaders,  feel  grateful 
to  the  liberal  Roanoke  and  not  feel  under  personal 
obligations  to  the  captivating  agent  who  brought  what 
caused  the  gratitude — no  checks,  cash  only?  If  he 
had  but  known  Sampson  Rock  earlier  in  life,  or  if 
Sampson  Rock  had  only  owned  the  Roanoke  longer! 

276 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

But  there  was  still  time.  Some  of  the  best-known 
Senators  were  octogenarians.  William  Abercrombie, 
who  was  only  sixty-one,  smiled. 

"Judge,"  said  Sam,  after  a  pause,  "you  are  aware 
that  Colonel  Robinson  knows  about  our  projects  in 
Austin  County?" 

"Of  course.  I  can't  find  out  how  it  leaked  out.  But 
the  World's  article  should  help  to  offset  it." 

"Darrell  tried  to  secure  a  pledge  of  low  rates  and 
better  facilities." 

"Oh!"  The  Judge  shook  his  head  sorrowfully. 
Darrell  should  have  left  it  to  the  Honorable  W.  Aber 
crombie.  But  the  Honorable  W.  Abercrombie  was 
loyal  to  Mr.  Rock  and  their  friends;  wherefore  the 
Honorable  W.  Abercrombie  apologized  for  Darrell's 
oversight  by  talking  about  Robinson.  "It's  just  like 
him.  Instead  of  welcoming  his  road's  one  chance  of 
salvation,  he  immediately  beheld  instead  a  marvellous 
change  in  his  personal  fortunes  and  at  once  proceeded 
to  talk  about  it.  He  simply  couldn't  help  it,  Mr.  Rock. 
It  is  curious  that  all  born  optimists  are  supremely  self 
ish,  and  their  glowing  visions  of  the  future  are  those 
of  extremely  short-sighted  people.  Perhaps  optimism 
is  but  a  sublimated  form  of  selfishness,  eh?"  He  look 
ed  philosophical.  Presently  he  became  mildly  indig 
nant.  "Why,  he  has  been  trying,  the  last  few  days, 
to  borrow  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  on  notes. 
He  already  looks  upon  his  real-estate  schemes  as  actual 
dividend-payers  and  regards  his  incorporation  papers 
as  gilt-edged  collateral.  But  the  banks — " 

"What  about  the  banks?"  asked  Sam,  for  the  lawyer 
had  paused. 

"The  banks,"  answered  Judge  Abercrombie,  with  a 
touch  of  deprecatory  villany,  as  it  were,  "are  not  of  the 

277 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

same  opinion.  I  should  not  be  very  much  surprised 
if  some  of  the  Colonel's  loans  were  not  renewed — 
especially  if  Virginia  Central  stock  continues  to  de 
cline." 

"The  stock  probably  will,"  said  Sam,  with  a  far-away 
look  in  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  Judge  Abercrombie 
asked  this  with  a  lively  interest. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Sam.  "It  looks  as  if 
nothing  except  what  is  disagreeable  is  going  to  happen 
to  Colonel  Robinson."  He  saw  that  Abercrombie 's 
judicial  mind  was  inclining  ticker- ward  and  that  he 
must  presently  suspect  what  he  had  not  yet  thought  of 
suspecting.  That  would  not  do.  Abercrombie 's  en 
lightenment  must  come,  if  at  all,  from  Sampson  Rock. 
"I  never  bother  much  with  the  stock-market,  Judge, 
but  I  should  say,  speaking  seriously,  that  the  stock  is 
rather  low  to  go  short  of  it  now.  It's  had  a  pretty  bad 
break.  You  and  I  are  not  the  only  people  who  know 
the  road's  shortcomings." 

"I  suppose  not,"  agreed  Abercrombie,  thoughtfully. 

"At  all  events,  I  shall  watch  the  accumulating  mis 
fortunes  of  the  Colonel  with  some  degree  of  personal 
interest." 

Judge  Abercrombie  smiled  appreciatively  at  the 
quiet  humor  of  the  young  man's  phrase,  thereby 
crediting  Sam  with  Machiavellian  subtleties.  Sam 
perceived  this,  but  there  was  no  need  to  deny  any 
thing.  Exaggerated  regard  for  the  opinion  of  the  world 
was  a  form  of  vanity  that  Sampson  Rock,  for  one,  did 
not  have. 

"I'll  wager  a  big  red  apple  that  this  sequence  of  in 
explicable  calamities  will  in  due  time  make  the  banks 
superstitious — even  those  of  which  Colonel  Robinson  is 

278 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

a  director.  Indeed,  I  think  that  two  such  banks  will 
this  very  day  inform  the  Colonel  that  they  should  like 
more  collateral,  and  if  possible  they  would  prefer  to 
pass  the  privilege  of  holding  the  Colonel's  paper  to 
other  banks." 

The  Judge  himself  looked  Machiavellian.  It  made 
Sam  rise — further  conversation  would  have  made  him 
a  full-fledged  accomplice — and  say,  "I  promised  Dar- 
rell  I  wouldn't  stay  long." 

"If  there  is  anything  you  can  suggest — "  began  the 
lawyer,  with  a  subtle  flattery. 

Sam  shook  his  head,  without  heat,  and  said,  very 
politely:  "My  father  might;  but  I  could  not — not  to 
you,  Judge.  Good-day,  sir." 

Judge  Abercrombie  smiled  gratefully.  The  young 
man  had  complimented  him  very  nicely.  He  was  now 
sure  of  the  confidence  and  personal  regard  of  Sampson 
Rock's  only  son  and  heir,  who,  Morson  had  informed 
him,  was  as  the  apple  of  the  Old  Man's  eye.  A  very 
nice  young  man. 

The  conversation  had  turned  Sam's  thoughts  to 
New  York,  to  Wall  Street,  to  the  office  of  the  finder  of 
work  for  idle  hands  to  do,  and  the  distributer  of  pros 
perity  for  somnolent  States  and  largess  for  faithful  ser 
vitors,  and  inexplicable  misfortunes  for  dogs  in  the 
manger.  As  he  walked  back  to  the  hotel,  his  gaze  on 
the  ground,  he  saw  his  father  with  his  keen  eyes  fixed 
on  the  tape,  watching  the  battle — the  modern  battle  of 
business,  the  modern  struggle  for  life.  ...  It  was  like 
watching  a  boa-constrictor  coiled  crushingly  about  the 
writhing  prey.  The  process  of  swallowing — slow,  but 
so  sure! — would  presently  begin.  .  .  .  But  the  boa-con 
strictor  lengthened  itself  until  it  was  a  hundred,  five 
hundred,  a  thousand  miles,  and  then  split  in  two — thin, 

279 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

twin  snakes  of  metal,  eighty  pounds  to  the  yard — 
steel  rails!  .  .  . 

A  hard  game  it  was — to  the  victim  who  was  swal 
lowed  because  hp  would  not  listen  to  reason.  It  was 
youthful  igaorance  that  had  made  it  seem  easy  to  play 
it  otherwise  that  epic  day  when  he  entered  the  boa- 
constrictor's  den  on  the  return  from  the  trip  around 
the  world.  It  was  not  possible  to  meet  business  people 
anywhere  who  did  not  think  of  money.  And  it  came  to 
Sam  that  this  universal  sordidness  was  not  so  ugly  as 
it  looked  at  first  blush;  it  was  natural  that  men  should 
think  of  their  own  stomachs  before  they  thought  of 
other  people's  stomachs,  and  also  that  some  palates 
were  more  fastidious  than  others  and  required  more  ex 
pensive  food.  Fletcher  was  a  good  little  chap ;  yet  he 
was  for  himself.  He  would  work  hard  at  Austin,  and 
he  really  hungered  to  see  a  model  plant;  but — Henry 
F.  Fletcher,  general  manager!  Judge  Abercrombie,  a 
man  to  be  trusted  with  millions,  a  man  of  ability,  of 
loyalty — yet  the  Roanoke's  lobbyist,  with  political 
aspirations  of  themselves  praiseworthy,  and  as  such  a 
man  who  would  be  an  incorruptible  patriot;  yet  doing 
his  dirty  work  blithely  because  it  meant  the  sinews  of 
his  political  war.  Colonel  Robinson,  a  pleasant,  well- 
meaning  man,  inefficient  because  he  lacked  the  relent- 
lessness  of  the  born  executive  manager;  utterly  unfit 
to  run  a  railroad,  and  yet  one  of  "God's  optimists." 
He  was  constitutionally  a  non-money-maker,  and  yet  to 
make  money  was  all  he  was  thinking  of,  so  that  it  was 
difficult  to  deal  fairly  with  him,  because  the  more  the 
philanthropist  offered  to  do,  the  more  the  well-meaning, 
would-be  money-maker  wanted. 

A  pedestrian  jostled  him  out  of  his  walking  trance, 
and  Sam  considered  the  problem  immediately  before, 

280 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

him.  Robinson's  stock  and  the  stock  of  other  local 
holders  he  must  get,  because  then  he  could  say  how 
important  a  share  he  should  have  in  the  Great  Work. 
In  Wall  Street,  in  Virginia,  the  world  over,  everywhere, 
it  was  the  same:  people  wanted  money,  and,  moreover, 
hated  to  share  an  unexpected  profit  even  with  the  man 
whose  work,  or  whose  prescience,  or  whose  knowledge 
of  the  march  of  events  alone  made  that  profit  possi 
ble.  He  must  get  that  stock  and  pay  more  for  it  than 
Sampson  Rock  or  anybody  else  not  in  the  secret  of  the 
deal  would  dream  of  paying.  Then  there  could  be  no 
bitterness,  no  wails,  nothing  worse  than  the  whining 
self-reproach  of  the  average  ignoramus,  "Oh,  why 
didn't  I  know  this  stock  was  going  higher!" 

He  and  Rogers  would  work  together  in  the  regenera 
tion  of  the  mismanaged  Virginia  Central.  The  sooner 
the  control  was  secured,  the  sooner  the  work  would  begin. 

That  very  day  a  battle  royal  raged  on  the  floor  of 
the  New  York  Stock  Exchange.  The  press  despatches 
from  Richmond,  anticipating  matters  slightly,  had  it 
that  the  stern  authorities  of  Virginia  had  decided  to 
bring  suits  to  compel  the  full  and  speedy  payment  of 
back  taxes  by  railroads  and  other  corporations  doing 
business  in  the  State.  The  amounts  were  not  specified, 
but  "it  was  said"  that  "millions"  were  involved. 
The  news  reached  Gilmartin,  and  he  rewrote  the  items. 
His  style  may  have  lacked  distinction,  but  the  inti 
mations  of  disaster  were  literary  masterpieces  in  their 
way.  They  even  conveyed  the  impression  that  the 
writer  knew  the  worst,  but  could  not  bring  himself  to 
tell  it  in  all  its  naked  hideousness,  out  of  pity — the 
philanthropy  of  a  man  who  was  short  of  Virginia  Cen 
tral  stock  and  understood  the  psychology  of  fear! 

281 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Then  Sampson  Rock  did  his  best — and  his  Avorst. 
He  distributed  scores  of  selling  orders  among  scores 
of  brokers.  Some  of  them  were  given  directly,  others 
circuitously,  several  reaching  brokers  from  Richmond 
correspondents — no  detail  was  too  insignificant  to  over 
look.  The  entire  capital  stock  of  the  Virginia  Central 
Railroad,  it  seemed,  was  offered  for  sale,  urgently, 
without  regard  for  price — the  action  of  panic-stricken 
holders  the  country  over  who  not  only  feared  but  must 
actually  know  the  worst.  Other  stocks  were  similarly 
pressed  for  sale.  It  was  not  a  selling  movement;  it 
was  an  avalanche.  Shortly  before  noon  the  news 
reached  the  Board  Room  that  a  receivership  for  the 
Virginia  Central  had  been  applied  for — which,  indeed, 
it  had,  by  an  obscure  firm  of  Richmond  lawyers,  who 
had  received  instructions  to  do  so,  accompanied  by  a 
telegraph  money-order  from  New  York  for  one  thou 
sand  dollars  and  the  promise  of  more  to  come  if  they 
made  enough  noise.  The  instructions  did  not  come 
from  Sampson  Rock,  but  from  a  professional  gambler 
who  was  short  of  the  market  and  used  crude  methods. 
But  it  helped  Sampson  Rock,  for,  on  the  receipt  of  the 
news,  orders  to  sell  Virginia  Central  poured  in  from 
other  people  than  Sampson  Rock,  people  who  under 
stood  now  why  Virginia  Central  had  been  so  ominously 
weak  for  so  many  weeks :  the  rats  had  been  leaving 
the  sinking  ship;  that  is  to  say,  the  insiders  had  been 
selling.  Therefore  the  outsiders  sold  now — with  the 
exception  of  Sampson  Rock,  who  began  to  buy  as 
soon  as  everybody  else  began  to  sell. 

The  market  staggered,  reeled  crazily  as  though  about 
to  collapse  utterly,  for  there  was  other  bad  news,  other 
rumors,  insistent,  sinister  —  this  man  was  in  trouble, 
that  firm  was  about  to  go  under,  another  corporation 

282 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

would  have  to  give  up  a  hopeless  struggle  against  in 
solvency — until  the  black  shadow  of  panic  brooded 
over  the  Street  and  in  a  thousand  gambler-hearts  the 
chill  of  suspense  froze  the  blood. 

That  was  Sampson  Rock  at  his  best — or  his  worst. 
A  confidential  clerk,  with  long  sheets  of  paper  before 
him,  jotted  down  sales  and  purchases  and  names  of 
brokers  and  of  stocks — not  only  Virginia  Central,  but 
a  dozen  others  which  the  Old  Man  was  using  as  pro 
jectiles  to  batter  down  what  stood  between  him  and 
the  control  of  a  discredited  road.  On  these  sheets  he 
could  see  at  a  glance  where  his  troops  were  and  what 
they  were  doing,  and  when  there  were  too  many  at 
one  point  and  must  prudently  retreat,  and  where  he 
could  venture  to  throw  a  few  thousands  more.  A  hun 
dred  times  in  an  hour  he  made  the  fifteen-foot  trip 
between  the  ticker  and  the  tally-sheets,  and  listened  to 
fifty  telephone  messages,  and  heard  reports  from  Valen 
tine  and  from  Dunlap,  and  gave  more  orders. 

His  own  pet,  Roanoke,  had,  of  course,  suffered  with 
the  rest,  but  while  he  sold  it  quietly  with  his  left  hand 
he  bought  it  ostentatiously  with  the  right,  so  that  men 
who  watched  perceived  unmistakably  that  Roanoke, 
though  weak,  had  friends  and  must  not  be  attacked 
too  recklessly.  This  enabled  Rock  to  reduce  his  home 
garrison  without  over-great  risks.  Gilt-edged  invest 
ment  stocks  were  as  weak  as  the  worthless,  even  weaker 
at  times — those  times  that  Sampson  Rock  himself  sold 
them  for  effect.  But  in  Virginia  Central  his  attacks 
were  fiercest — savage  onslaught  after  onslaught,  when 
ever  it  looked  as  if  it  might  rally,  using  to  the  utmost 
the  great  human  factor  of  fear.  Tirelessly  he  ham 
mered  the  doomed  stock,  and  under  the  impact  of  his 
blows  the  price  went  down  to  thirty-three,  to  thirty- 
10  283 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

two,  to  thirty-one,  to  thirty,  to  twenty -nine.  Then  it 
was  that  everybody  else  sold.  And  then  it  was  that, 
while  he  commanded  six  brokers  to  keep  on  selling, 
he  instructed  ten  to  buy  it,  and  to  the  last  one  of  the 
ten  he  told,  by  word  of  mouth,  in  the  private  office — 
a  tall,  smooth-faced,  delicately  built  young  man,  al 
most  a  boy,  whose  mind  was  as  a  machine  made  of 
polished  steel  and  smoothly  oiled: 

"Eddie,  go  over  to  the  Board  and  buy  Virginia  Cen 
tral  for  me.  Don't  wait  for  bargains.  Buy  it  steadily. 
Follow  it.  Don't  bid  it  up  at  any  time,  but  don't  let 
up.  Keep  close  to  the  sellers  and  take  all  that  comes. 
Don't  draw  attention  on  yourself,  but  let  as  little  get 
away  from  you  as  you  can." 

The  stock  closed  at  thirty-one  that  night,  the  entire 
market  somewhat  above  the  lowest  prices  of  the  day, 
but  very  feverish  and  unsettled.  The  slaughter  had 
been  "appalling,"  according  to  the  commission-houses, 
whose  customers  had  been  duly  slaughtered  to  enable 
one  man  to  give  a  hundred  thousand  men  the  chance 
to  sweat  in  coal-mines  yet  unopened  and  blast-furnaces 
yet  unbuilt.  But  that  one  man  had  recovered  from 
the  battle-field  most  of  the  solid  gold  bullets  he  had 
fired,  buying  back  at  little  or  no  loss  the  blocks  of 
various  guiltless  stocks  he  had  sold  to  depress  one 
particular  guilty  stock.  Also,  after  Dunlap's  clerks 
had  worked  late  into  the  night,  he  found  he  had  sold 
and  repurchased  two  hundred  and  thirty  thousand 
shares  of  various  stocks  and  was  "long"  only  of  Roan- 
oke  and  Virginia  Central.  Of  the  first  he  had  perhaps 
nine  thousand  shares  more  than  he  had  owned  in  the 
morning.  But  of  Virginia  Central  he  now  had  eighty- 
seven  thousand  shares.  He  needed  seventy-five  thou 
sand  shares  more.  He  had  not  done  quite  as  well  as 

284 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

he  had  expected.  Evidently  the  floating  supply  was 
smaller  than  he  had  supposed.  All  had  been  forced 
on  the  market  that  a  decline  could  force.  The  rest 
he  must  get  by  paying  more  for  the  stock  than  the 
foolish  holders  would  think  it  was  worth.  They  would 
think  this  because  they  would  know  only  what  the  road 
could  earn  under  such  a  management  as  Robinson's. 

The  upward  campaign  would  begin  in  earnest  as  soon 
as  he  had  bought  at  private  sale  whatever  stock  could 
be  picked  up  in  Richmond — the  bull  campaign  that 
was  to  make  people  sell  because  they  would  fondly 
imagine  they  were  selling  half-dollars  at  sixty  cents. 
They  would  think  that  in  another  month. 


XXI 

THE  letter  that  Sam  received  that  evening  from  his 
father  was  not  long,  because  Sampson  Rock  wrote 
it  with  his  own  hand  and  he  was  too  busy  to  spend 
much  time  in  autograph  missives.     He  wished  to  know 
what  Sam  was  doing,  and  ended  with: 

"  I  hope  you  are  having  a  nice  time  and  are  learning  some 
thing.  If  you've  found  something  good  I'll  help  you,  but 
don't  be  too  reckless  with  your  own  educational  expenses. 
Don't  write,  but  come  back  and  tell  me. 

"  YOUR  LOVING  FATHER." 

Sam  himself  had  no  desire  to  answer  by  mail,  but 
neither  did  he  wish  to  return  to  New  York  just  yet. 
He  felt  certain  the  Old  Man  had  not  secured  enough 
Virginia  Central  stock,  and  it  was  only  a  question  of  a 
few  days  before  he  would  send  Morson  to  Richmond 
to  gather  up  what  certificates  could  be  bought  there. 
Then  the  price  would  begin  to  advance  on  the  Stock 
Exchange  on  the  final  clean-up.  All  of  which  would 
render  Sam's  task  the  more  difficult. 

Darrell  reported  that  they  had  sixty-eight  per  cent, 
of  the  Austin  Iron  Company's  safe  in  hand  and  that 
people  were  beginning  to  talk  suspiciously. 

"We'll  have  to  form  a  syndicate,  I  suppose,  to  re 
organize  the  company."  Sam  looked  at  Darrell  for 
confirmation. 

286 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"Of  course.  And  nobody  can  help  you  in  that  like 
your  father,  Sam." 

"Nobody  can,"  assented  Sam.  He  thought  a  mo 
ment.  "It's  part  of  the  general  development  scheme." 

Darrell  nodded.  The  Virginia  Central  deal  inter 
ested  him  only  indirectly  in  that  it  would  help  the 
profit  on  the  Austin  iron  enterprise.  He  told  Sam: 

"We'll  sell  the  stock  to  the  new  company  at  par, 
taking  first -mortgage  bonds  in  payment  and  a  bonus 
in  new  stock.  More  bonds  will  be  issued  for  working 
capital  and  enlargement  of  the  plant,  and,  as  your 
father  said,  the  Virginia  Central  might  guarantee  the 
bonds.  We'll  be  on  velvet  then,  and — " 

"Jack,"  said  Sam,  "I  am  more  interested  in  seeing 
the  plant  enlarged  and  modernized  and  in  watching 
Rogers  perform  his  wonders  on  the  road  while  we 
leave  the  financial  end  to  the  old  gentleman.  I  want 
to  see  for  myself  how  a  railroad  is  changed  from  a 
tin  pot  into  a  dividend  -  payer.  This  is  a  matter  of 
years,  and  so  the  velvet  does  not  appeal  to  me  just 
now." 

"It  does  to  me,  very  much,  seeing  that  I  am  old  and 
feeble-minded.  Kindly  consider  my  feelings  in  the 
matter,  kid." 

"Oh,  you  be  hanged!" 

"Maybe  I  will.  But  I  have  a  duty  to  perform 
towards  the  future  Mrs.  Darrell.  I'm  sure  she'll  be 
extravagant,  and  I  am  one  of  the  kind  that  can't 
deny  them  anything.  You  are  about  to  graduate 
from  the  kindergarten.  Very  soon  it  will  dawn  on 
your  startled  understanding  that  you'll  have  use  for 
the  filthy  lucre,  microbes  and  all.  I  repeat  dispas 
sionately  that  your  game  is  to  squat  beside  your  poor 
father  and  soak  up  sense  while  your  back  molars  grow. 

287 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

Of  course,  having  been  at  it  nearly  a  month  now  you 
know  a  heap.  Your  picnic  is  nearly  over  and  now 
comes  the  ennobling  sweat — now  that  you'll  have  to 
raise  money.  If  you  are  a  labor-saver,  you'll  just  let 
your  father  write  a  half-dozen  letters  to  his  particular 
friends.  Do  you  know  why  that's  all  he'll  have  to  do  ? 
Because  those  particular  friends  have  always  made 
money  whenever  they've  answered  his  previous  letters 
and  enclosed  their  little  checks.  You  may  be  satisfied 
with  one  per  cent,  cash  and  ninety-nine  per  cent,  glory, 
but  not  so  the  friends.  One  per  cent,  and  no  risk  is 
good,  but  forty  per  cent,  and  no  risk  is  better.  The 
forty  for  mine.  I'll  even  take  my  chances  on  making 
it  fifty,  to  show  there's  no  hard  feelings." 

"Supposing  you  tried  to  float  the  new  company?" 

"I  guess  I  could  do  it.  But  you'd  get  better  terms 
from  your  father,  who  will  probably  waive  his  commis 
sion  so  that  you  may  learn  business  by  playing  at  it 
with  the  calcium-light  beating  on  your  lovely,  upturned 
face.  My  friends  wouldn't  waive  anything,  except 
the  chance  to  make  your  share  as  little  as  possible, 
being  despicable  creatures  who  want  to  get  the  dust 
quick  and  plenty.  Sabe  ?  I  lean  towards  Sampson 
Rock,  Esquire." 

"I  want  you  to  make  a  good  thing  here,  of  course, 
Jack;  you  know  that.  But  why  can't  I  be  satisfied 
if  we  make  a  big  plant  of  the  Austin  Iron  Company?" 

"In  the  name  of  the  Prophet,  figs!  If  I  were  Samp 
son  Rock's  only  son,  every  time  I  felt  like  making 
money  I'd  look  in  Bradstreet's  and  then  I'd  fill  with 
scorn  at  the  sordid  world.  Money?  Nasty  thing! 
What's  it  good  for?  Yachts?  Game  preserves ?  Coun 
try  houses?  Automobiles?  Fifth  Avenue  shacks? 
What  are  such  things  to  me  ?  I  might,  of  course,  want 

288 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

to  run  a  gentleman's  farm  and  raise  things  on  it,  and 
if  the  money  held  out  I  might  incorporate  a  society  of 
one  for  the  encouragement  of  the  histrionic  art." 

Sam  smiled  perfunctorily.  He  said,  thinking  of 
Robinson's  obstinacy:  "Jack,  did  it  ever  strike  you 
that  it  is  a  hard  job  to  make  people  believe  you're  not 
an  ass  when  you  tell  them  you  want  to  do  something 
else  besides  making  money?" 

"Not  an  ass,  exactly,  Sam  —  do  not  be  hard  on 
yourself;  just  a  lunatic."  Darrell  smiled.  Then  he 
went  on,  seriously:  "Sam,  you  are  a  nice  chap,  but 
you  are  young.  The  only  foolish  thing  your  father 
has  ever  done,  that  I  can  find  out,  is  to  have  let  you 
wear  short  dresses  too  long.  He  might  better  have 
made  less  money  and  wasted  a  quarter  on  a  barber 
to  cut  your  curls  when  you  were  twenty -one.  Let 
me  tell  you  right  here  that  it's  nothing  especially 
creditable  to  you  that  you  don't  care  about  making 
money.  You've  never  had  to  make  it;  you've  had 
it  made  for  you  and  it's  meant  nothing.  It  sud 
denly  bursts  upon  you  that  playing  marbles  is  not 
exciting.  You  decide  on  adult  games.  What  hap 
pens?  Money-making  is  vulgar.  The  real  stake  is 
not  the  plated  loving-cup  but  the  glory  of  the  victory. 
Everybody  else  wants  both,  but  you  are  better  than 
the  others;  so  you'll  donate  the  cup  to  some  thin- 
blooded,  flat-chested  teetotaler.  Everybody  is  selfish, 
but  that  doesn't  mean  that  everybody  will  spike  the 
other  runners  to  keep  them  from  having  a  fair  show 
at  the  cup.  You've  been  pottering  around  for  a  week 
doing  something  else  besides  playing  polo,  and  one 
moment  you  think  one  thing  and  the  next  another. 
You  are  full  of  the  excitement  of  the  game,  but  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  you  are  a  little  ethical  society  all 

289 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

by  yourself.  In  the  mean  time,  while  your  father  is 
getting  there,  you're  having  what  you  call  a  soul- 
crisis.  You  remind  me  of  a  'lunger*  I  knew  in  Colo 
rado  Springs  once.  That's  what  he  had  while  he  was 
thinking  of  the  righteousness  of  working  in  a  gambling- 
house,  that  being  the  only  job  he  could  get  that  he  was 
strong  enough  to  fill.  He  was  in  doubt  whether  it 
was  not  nobler  to  return  penniless  to  the  bleak  East 
and  die,  painfully,  but  with  an  immaculate  soul.  It 
took  three  coughing-spells  and  the  sight  of  a  blank  cer 
tificate  all  ready  to  be  filled  out  by  an  impatient  doctor 
before  he  'seen  his  duty  and  done  it.'  He  owns  the 
joint  now  and  is  almost  fat.  Do  you  want  my  serious 
and  disinterested  advice?" 

"Let's  hear  it,"  said  Sam,  cautiously, 

"All  right,  Scotchy.  Well,  then,  return  to  New 
York,  tell  the  Old  Man  what  you've  done — casually 
observing  that  yours  truly  is  in  this  deal  with  you,  as 
an  evidence  of  good  faith — and  suggest  that  you  want 
to  form  a  new  company  to  take  in  his  coal-lands  and 
our  iron  company.  He'll  do  anything  you  ask  when 
you  further  assure  him  that  you  are  resolved  to  make 
your  headquarters  in  Richmond  and  learn  practical 
railroading  as  well.  Then  get  the  best  men  you  can 
hire  and  tell  them  to  go  ahead  and  do  their  best. 
They  will  understand  what  you  mean,  to  wit,  divi 
dends;  and  don't  get  a  soul  spasm.  Let  them  alone. 
After  two  or  three  years  you  will  hike  back  to  New 
York,  your  desk  alongside  of  the  old  gentleman's,  and 
just  absorb.  By  that  time  you  will  be  married.  You 
will  let  your  children  go  to  public  school.  It  doesn't 
make  any  difference  if  they  go  in  an  automobile  as 
long  as  Micky  Reilly  can  show  your  oldest  that  money 
doesn't  always  prevent  black  eyes.  When  they  grow 

290 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

up,  don't  let  them  be  mining-engineers.  Far  better  to 
go  into  poetry.  You  can  publish  their  sonnets  at  your 
expense  and  suppress  the  edition,  thus  doing  your  duty 
as  a  fond  father  and  as  a  public-spirited  citizen.  At 
the  age  of  seventy-five  you  will  expire  to  slow  music, 
much  lamented  by  the  men  who  helped  you  to  become 
beastly  rich  so  that  they  themselves  might  not  be  beset 
by  the  temptation  of  great  wealth;  and  you  will  join 
poor  old  Jack  in  the  happy  hunting-grounds  where  we 
can  swap  long  yarns,  and  never  go  near  the  stock- 
tickers  in  the  basement." 

"Good  shot,"  laughed  Sam.  Darrell  was  a  better 
and  more  level-headed  fellow  than  his  manner  of  speech 
indicated.  He  went  on,  falling  into  the  same  manner 
of  speech:  "Then,  first  we  will  increase  our  holdings  of 
Virginia  Central  in  Sydney's  office,  and  then  we  will 
give  our  genial  friend  Robinson  and  his  friends  a  last 
farewell  chance.  Then  back  home  to  fall  on  the  pa 
ternal  neck  to  inform  him  that  we  have  the  deciding 
vote  and  won't  he  please  be  nice  to  the  mob,  also  to 
Darrell." 

"Get  a  gait  on!  Let's  tackle  Robinson  at  the  club 
to-night,"  said  Darrell,  "and  have  it  out." 

They  were  smoking  placidly  when  Colonel  Robin 
son  sauntered  in.  His  manner,  as  they  simultaneously 
rose  to  greet  him,  was  a  trifle  constrained.  But  Dar 
rell  was  as  jovial  as  usual  and  Sam  smiled  pleasantly. 

"What's  the  news,  Colonel?"  asked  Darrell. 

"I  understand,"  answered  Robinson,  with  a  rather 
cold  politeness,  "that  you  have  been  getting  options 
on  Austin  Iron  Company  stock?" 

"Yes;  options,  instead  of  buying  the  stock  out 
right,"  answered  Darrell,  amiably.  "You  see,  I  still 

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SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

have  hopes  of  coming  to  some  agreement  on  rates. 
What  do  you  say,  Colonel;  am  I  too  optimistic?" 

Robinson  looked  suspiciously  at  Darrell,  who  looked 
particularly  conciliatory,  then  at  Sam.  Darrell  was 
the  man  to  do  business  with.  His  New  York  corre 
spondents  had  written  that  Darrell  was  a  well-known 
mining  expert  and  mine-owner,  with  ample  resource 
of  his  own  and  excellent  financial  connections  in  New 
York  and  London.  Mostly  he  had  gone  in  for  copper 
and  silver  mines.  As  for  stock-market  affiliations,  he 
had  none  so  far  as  they  could  learn.  But  many  of  his 
friends  were  big  operators,  and  he,  like  most  of  the 
Westerners  with  money,  probably  plunged  in  stocks 
with  wild  and  woolly  recklessness.  They  all  did. 

The  important  thing  to  Robinson  was  that  Darrell 
had  money  and  connections.  That  point  became 
doubly  important  since  the  banks  so  suddenly  began 
to  display  deafness  to  oratorical  appeals  for  renewals 
of  notes.  Some  of  the  verbal  promises  to  join  the 
Colonel  in  the  Capital  Park  enterprise  had  been  can 
celled,  the  unstable  friends  having  become  evasive  in 
their  explanations  but  obviously  determined  not  to 
contribute  the  cash.  The  decline  in  Virginia  Central 
stock  had  come  at  a  most  inopportune  time,  for  life 
long  banking  friends,  strangely  enough,  now  insisted 
on  the  margins  being  kept  up.  Still  these  New- 
Yorkers  did  not  know  his  tribulations.  Therefore 
he  answered  Darrell  with  a  sort  of  humorous  inflexi 
bility: 

"I  say  what  I  said  before.  We'll  do  the  best  we 
can.  But  on  rebates  we  are  immutable  as  the  Rock 
of  Gibraltar." 

"I  left  my  dynamite  and  drills  home,"  laughed  Dar 
rell.  "We'll  drop  the  matter  and  leave  Austin  and 

292 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

its  coal  and  iron  in  undisturbed  repose  for  another 
century  or  two." 

The  Colonel  knew  the  rhetoric  was  for  effect;  in 
American,  "bluff."  He  said,  calmly: 

"That  is  for  Mr.  Darrell  to  decide.  But  my  advice 
is  to  carry  out  your  plans.  It's  to  our  interest  to  help 
you." 

"That's  what  I  think,"  interjected  Sam.  "In  fact, 
I've  been  thinking  that  perhaps  you  would  like  to  have 
a  share  in  our  syndicate." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  consider  that  when  your  plans 
are  sufficiently  perfected  to  enable  me  to  judge.  Not 
that  I  am  not  obliged  to  you  for  the  opportunity,"  he 
finished,  graciously.  He  had  troubles  of  his  own  and 
was  willing  to  receive  help.  Give  help  he  couldn't,  but 
he  was  willing  to  say  he  might  do  so.  It  didn't  cost 
anything. 

"Well,"  said  Darrell,  slowly,  "since  we  came  here 
conditions  in  New  York  have  become  less  favorable 
for  a  big  industrial  promotion.  The  stock-market  has 
been  weak,  and  until  the  present  liquidation  is  over 
and  forgotten,  capitalists  will  sit  tight.  I  myself  think 
that  in  the  fall  conditions  will  be  more  propitious. 
Colonel,  if  you  will  not  take  it  amiss,  I  will  say  frankly 
that  the  inadequacy  of  the  facilities  given  by  your  road 
is  so  well  known  that  it  will  handicap  us." 

"How,  sir?"  frowned  the  Colonel. 

"Everybody  knows  that  your  road  needs  money  and 
that  you  couldn't  raise  it  in  New  York — " 

"I  certainly  could,  Mr.  Darrell."  The  Colonel  was 
visibly  annoyed. 

"Yes;  on  terms  that  are  much  worse  than  giving 
rebates  to  the  Austin  Coal  and  Iron  Company.  And  I 
read  in  the  paper  that  London  had  been  a  steady  seller 

293 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

of  Virginia  Central  stock  for  some  days.  That  doesn't 
look  as  if  the  English  were  over-anxious  to  help." 

It  was  all  true;  but  the  Colonel  put  on  a  look  of 
immeasurable  dignity  and  was  about  to  speak  when 
Sam  said  to  Jack,  obviously  to  mollify  the  Colonel: 

"The  whole  market  has  been  very  weak.  All  stocks 
are  down." 

"Virginia  Central  broke  thirty,"  put  in  Darrell,  con 
troversially. 

Colonel  Robinson  frowned.  ' '  It  is  the  consequences 
of  over-speculation.  We've  never  felt  called  upon  to 
do  more  than  to  operate  the  Central  to  the  best  of  our 
ability,  leaving  the  stock-ticker  to  direct  the  policies 
of  other  roads.  The  decline  in  our  stock  is  due  to 
attacks  by  professional  gamblers.  Some  day  the 
bears,"  he  finished,  darkly,  "will  find  out  to  their 
sorrow  that  they  cannot  sell  with  impunity  what  they 
do  not  own."  He  looked  like  the  menace  of  an  after 
life  of  torment  for  the  bears. 

' '  In  the  mean  time  they  are  gathering  up  the  ducats 
in  bushel-baskets."  As  Darrell  said  this  the  Colonel 
thought  he  had  the  look  of  one  of  those  Western  plung 
ers  who  were  startling  Wall  Street  with  the  magnitude 
of  their  play. 

"Do  you  happen  to  be  short  of  it,  Mr.  Darrell?" 
asked  the  Colonel.  Then,  with  a  smile,  that  the  ques 
tion  might  be  robbed  of  its  rudeness:  "If  so,  I  hope 
your  basket  is  spacious,  sir." 

"Not  yet,"  replied  Darrell. 

"They  are  overdoing  it.  They  always  do.  Wall 
Street  is  peopled  by  fools  and  sheep,"  said  Sam,  with 
profound  conviction.  "The  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
is  to  beat  them  at  their  own  game.  They  are  so  cock 
sure  of  their  wonderful  cleverness  that  a  man  with  a 

294 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

little  modesty  and  some  cash  can  always  extort  tribute 
from  the  ticker-fiends." 

"He  thinks  so  because  he  hasn't  lost  yet,"  said 
Darrell  to  the  Colonel,  with  a  smile  of  fatherly  tolerance 
at  Sam. 

"I'll  bet  there  is  a  big  short  interest  in  Virginia  Cen 
tral  and  that  it  would  be  easy  to  run  up  the  price. 
I've  a  great  mind  to — "  He  checked  himself,  and 
stared  meditatively  at  the  Colonel. 

"Sir,  I  know  nothing  about  the  stock-market,"  said 
Robinson,  not  quite  veraciously.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  he  spoke  with  an  austere  dignity  that  was  a 
rebuke  to  all  disciples  of  the  devil.  He  then  finished: 
"But  I  should  think  the  short  interest  in  it  is  enormous! 
The  country  is  prosperous.  It  is  only  in  Wall  Street 
that  there  is  any  depression." 

"You  are  right,  Colonel  Robinson,"  said  Sam.  He 
arose  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room,  frown 
ing  at  the  floor.  Robinson  looked  at  him  in  mild  sur 
prise.  Darrell  leaned  over  and  whispered:  "Colonel, 
if  he  plans  a  stock-market  coup,  I  advise  you  to  come 
in  with  us.  On  my  honor,  I  assure  you  I'd  not  only 
risk  every  cent  I  own — and  it's  more  than  a  dollar  and 
a  half — but  I'd  put  my  friends  in.  He'll  make  enough 
in  a  week  to  pay  for  the  Austin  coal-lands." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Rock?  Is  he  any  relation  of — "  Rob 
inson  had  not  before  connected  him  with  Sampson 
Rock.  They  had  taken  care  he  should  not. 

"His  mother  left  him  a  multi-millionaire  several 
years  ago;  and  since  he  came  back  from  an  extended 
tour  of  the  world  I've  taken  him  under  my  wing." 

"Indeed?     Is  he  so  well  to  do?" 

"Colonel,"  said  Darrell,  simply,  "I  am  rated  a  mill 
ionaire  and  I  can  draw  my  check  for  six  figures  now 

295 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

without  stirring  from  this  chair,  or  having  to  sell  any 
of  my  investments.  But  alongside  of  my  friend  I'm  a 
pauper.  Do  you  know  what  his  money  is  in,  mostly  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Government  bonds,  which  he  won't  sell  because  of 
loyalty  to  his  mother." 

Sam  paused  before  Colonel  Robinson,  still  frowning. 

"Colonel,"  he  asked  abruptly,  "how  much  Virginia 
Central  stock  do  you  control  personally?" 

"I  cannot  answer  that  question."  Robinson  said  it 
stiffly. 

Sam  affected  to  misunderstand  the  Colonel,  and  he 
said:  "I  mean,  approximately." 

The  Colonel  hesitated.  The  recollection  of  the  newly 
developed  unfriendliness  of  the  bankers  made  him  say, 
dubiously:  "I  am  the  largest  individual  holder."  It 
was  no  time  to  resent  such  questions. 

"All  right.  Then  you'll  profit  more  than  anybody 
else,"  Sam  told  him;  and  the  Colonel  silently  hoped  so. 
"A  hundred  thousand  shares?" 

"No.  I  think  —  yes,  fifty  thousand  shares,  or  a 
trifle  over."  He  and  his  kinspeople  controlled  about 
fifty-two  thousand  shares. 

"Very  well.  Now  I  won't  ask  you  to  join  us  in  a 
pool,  because — "  He  paused.  The  Colonel  shook  his 
hand  in  majestic  decision  and  volunteered,  coldly: 

"I  do  not  approve  of  Wall  Street  methods.  Too 
many  railroads  in  this  country  are  run  by  the  ticker." 

"That's  all  right.  Some  of  those  same  roads  pay 
dividends  and  sell  above  thirty.  Look  here.  I'll  give 
you  fifty  dollars  a  share — " 

"My  stock  is  not  for  sale." 

"I  haven't  asked  you  to  sell  it  to  me,  Colonel  Rob 
inson.  If  you  will  give  me  a  thirty-day  option  on 

296 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

your  fifty  thousand  shares  of  stock  at  fifty  dollars  a 
share,  I  will  pay  you — " 

"It  is  no  use  to  talk  about  such  matters,"  interrupt 
ed  the  Colonel,  decisively.  But  he  began  to  breathe 
quickly.  Succor  might  come  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  It  was  welcome  from  any  quarter,  celestial 
or  infernal — anything  to  make  the  banks  regret  their 
unseemly  unfriendliness. 

"I  want  to  get  your  stock  where  it  won't  come  out," 
explained  Sam.  He  frowned  in  his  earnestness.  Al 
most  he  felt  that  he  was  grasping  that  block  of  stock, 
the  possession  of  which  would  start  him  and  Rogers  in 
their  work  of  regeneration.  "I'll  give  you  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  cash  for  the  option." 

"  It's  no  use.  You  have  my  promise  that — "  A  quar 
ter  of  a  million  in  cold  cash  would  help  a  great  deal. 
That  made  the  Colonel  check  his  rash  speech. 

"I'll  take  your  word,  Colonel,"  Sam  assured  him. 
"But  life  is  an  uncertain  thing  at  best  How  do  I  know 
what  your  executors  would  do  if  something  happened 
to  you?  This  isn't  cold-bloodedness,  but  I'm  risking 
a  heap.  The  stock  is  thirty.  The  option  is  at 
fifty—'1 

"The  stock  is  worth — "  began  the  Colonel. 

"What  it  will  fetch,"  retorted  Sam.  "Does  fifty 
dollars  a  share  seem  too  low?" 

"It  doesn't  seem — it  is  too  low,  and,  moreover,  I 
don't  wish  to  sell." 

"Make  the  option  price  sixty,"  said  Sam.  The 
Colonel  understood  from  that  that  all  the  young  stock- 
gambler  desired  was  to  keep  this  stock  from  coming 
into  the  market  while  he  was  punishing  the  shorts,  a 
praiseworthy  and  deserved  castigation.  But  he  shook 
his  head.  Sam  said:  "This  is  my  last  word  on  the 

297 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL    STREET 

subject.  The  cash  price  for  the  option  I  won't  raise. 
It's  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  cash.  But 
you  can  make  the  price  at  which  you  would  sell  the 
stock  sixty-five  dollars  a  share.  That's  more  than  fair. 
It's  thirty-five  points  more  than  the  market  price,  and 
that's  over  a  million  and  a  half  more.  The  fifty  thou 
sand  shares  won't  give  me  the  control  of  your  road,  and 
if  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  that  much  stock  I  wouldn't 
pay  sixty-five,  would  I?  Look  at  the  transactions  in 
the  stock  lately.  Of  course,  it's  trading — speculators 
buying  and  selling  the  same  stock  over  and  over  again. 
The  longer  that  keeps  on  the  more  likely  they  are  to  get 
real  stock  from  holders  who  are  frightened  by  the  drop 
in  the  price,  and  if  such  stock  comes  out  in  quantity  it 
would  take  a  million  derricks  to  hoist  the  price  five 
cents  a  share.  I  want  your  stock  fixed  so  that  it  won't 
come  out  on  the  market.  After  I  give  you  the  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  cash  and  you  give 
me  the  option,  I  want  to  fix  the  rest  of  the  stock  held  in 
Virginia  by  your  friends  and  foes,  but  at  no  such  fool 
price  as  sixty-five.  Tie  up  that  stock  so  it  won't  come 
out  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  and  we'll  give  the  bears  the 
time  of  their  lives." 

Sam's  face  was  flushed  and  his  eyes  shone  eagerly. 
His  hands  were  clinched — and  each  clutched  the  stock 
certificates  that  would  enable  the  regeneration  of  the 
tin-pot  railway  to  begin  apace ! 

Darrell  looked  at  Sam  curiously.  But  the  Colonel 
shook  his  head  dubiously.  At  first  flush  this  seemed  a 
plan  to  oust  him  from  the  control.  But  sixty-five  a 
share  meant  three  and  a  quarter  millions  of  dollars. 
That  would  enable  him  to  do  as  he  pleased.  It  was  too 
big  a  price  to  pay  for  pstock  by  people  like  the  Darrells 
if  they  wanted  to  secure  representation  in  the  direc- 

298 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

torate  of  the  road  for  unworthy  motives- — such,  for 
example,  as  favoring  themselves  as  shippers  of  Austin 
coal  and  iron.  It  must  be  a  stock-market  plan,  as 
daring  as  it  was  simple.  He  was  not  pledging  himself 
to  anything.  Long  before  the  stock  could  sell  in  the 
open  market  at  sixty-five — the  bonds  were  barely  above 
seventy — he  could  protect  himself.  The  banks  were 
fidgeting;  so  was  the  Colonel's  honorable  soul. 

"Look  here,  Colonel,  you  must  help  me  to  tie  up  all 
the  stock  here.  Then  you  leave  the  rest  of  it  to  us 
in  Wall  Street.  We'll  make  them  remember  Virginia 
Central  as  long  as  they  live.  After  we  get  them  where 
we  want  them  we'll  announce  our  big  coal  and  iron 
company,  and  Darrell  and  I  will  try  to  do  what 
we  can  in  the  bond  matter.  Maybe  we  can  help, 
if—" 

"We  will,  if  you  will  give  us  decent  rates,"  said 
Darrell,  harking  back  to  his  muttons. 

"Good  Heavens,  Mr.  Darrell,  is  that  an  obsession?" 
The  Colonel  smiled  jovially.  Sam's  heart  gave  a  great 
bound.  He  felt  that  the  battle  was  won. 

"Shall  Jack  give  you  a  check  now,  Colonel ?" 

"Not  so  quick,  young  man,"  smiled  Robinson.  He 
shook  his  head;  it  was  the  last  ditch. 

"No  time  to  lose.  I  want  to  go  back  to  New  York 
to-morrow  night  if  possible.  I'll  telegraph  my  brokers 
for  detailed  information  as  to  the  technical  condition 
of  the  stock.  But  I  know  I  am  right  and  I  can  put 
it  up — if  I  am  not  flooded  with  long  stock  from  Rich 
mond.  In  the  mean  time  don't  waste  time  to  deny 
malicious  rumors.  They  help." 

"You  won't  be  flooded,"  the  Colonel  assured  him, 
amiably. 

"I  don't  intend  to  be,"  retorted  Sam,  decisively, 
ao  299 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"Now  you  and  Jack  get  options  on  all  that's  floating 
around  here,  and — " 

"Look  here,  sir,  you  understand  that  I  don't  wish 
to  sell  my  stock?"  Robinson  tried  to  look  adaman 
tine.  He  did  not  succeed.  The  "sequence  of  inex 
plicable  calamities,"  as  Abercrombie  called  Sampson 
Rock's  tactics,  had  unnerved  him. 

"I  understand  that,  if  the  option  was  exercised,  you 
would  get  three  million  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  cash  in  a  month,  which  is  a  terrible  affliction." 
Sam  laughed,  a  trifle  excitedly.  He  had  not  told  any 
untruths  and  he  had  offered  the  Colonel  a  fortune  in 
order  to  be  permitted  to  do  the  great  work  and  do  it  at 
once.  It  was  as  gentlemanly  a  way  of  doing  business 
as  was  possible,  in  view  of  the  hopelessness  of  telling  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  He 
had  not  taken  advantage  of  his  knowledge  of  Robin 
son's  financial  straits.  He  had  not  even  been  tempted 
to  do  so.  And  as  his  mind,  working  quickly  now, 
dwelt  upon  that,  he  felt  a  glow  of  self-congratulation. 
He  did  not  care  what  his  father  would  say  about  the 
high  price.  He  actually  felt  glad  that  he  was  paying  a 
big  price.  That  was  a  pleasurable  expiation. 

"Colonel,  suppose  we  sign  papers  to-morrow  morn 
ing?"  Sam  looked  as  if  it  were  all  settled. 

"Sonny,  am  I  in  this  deal?"  Darrell  asked  this  in  a 
remonstrating  tone  of  voice.  The  Colonel  looked  at 
Darrell  with  a  quick  uneasiness. 

"Sure." 

' '  Stung  again ! ' '  said  Darrell  resignedly.  The  Colonel 
smiled  uncertainly.  He  had  not  been  anxious  to  do 
business  in  the  dark,  but  the  thought  of  the  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  cash — and,  if  it  came 
to  the  worst,  of  the  three  million  dollars  more  in 

300 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

a  month  —  had  been  assuming  a  more  pleasant  as 
pect. 

4 'You  pusillanimous  idiot!"  laughed  Sam.  Then 
Providence  pushed  him  a  few  hundred  miles  nearer  the 
goal. 


XXII 

"TJOW  do  you  do,  Colonel  Robinson?"  said  a  short, 

li  stout,  very  dignified  man  who  had  just  come  in. 
He  wore  a  long,  white  beard,  and  under  shaggy,  frown 
ing  brows  two  sharp  eyes  gleamed  with  a  sort  of  gen 
eral  hostility.  They  did  not  gleam  very  intelligently; 
the  hostility  very  obviously  did  not  include  the  owner 
of  the  eyes. 

Colonel  Robinson  rose  rather  eagerly.  Perhaps  he 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity.  He  was  beginning  to 
suspect  that  he  was  cornered  by  temptation ;  and  he  did 
not  feel  very  robust. 

"General  Winfree,  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you,  sir. 
Won't  you  join  us,  General?" 

The  Colonel  presented  his  friends  to  General  Peyton 
B.  Winfree  and  to  the  General's  companion,  Major 
Tolliver  Moreland.  The  General  was  pleased  to  be 
almost  gracious.  The  Major  shook  hands  with  a  sort 
of  restrained  eagerness.  He  had  heard  that  Mr. 
Darrell  was  very  wealthy — heard  it  from  a  friend  to 
whom  Robinson  had  spoken  of  the  "important  de 
velopments." 

"I  trust  your  trip  to  New  York  was  satisfactory, 
General,"  said  Colonel  Robinson.  He  looked  at  the  old 
warrior  with  an  affectionate  hopefulness.  Everybody 
in  Richmond  knew  about  the  trip  that  was  to  make 
Winfree  a  rich  man  if  only  a  few  vulgar  New  York 

302 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

millionaires  took  the  General's  view  of  the  value  of  a 
certain  waterpower  at  Winfreesboro.  General  Win- 
free  himself  was  inclined  to  think  that  his  trip  was  in 
a  class  of  itself,  next  to  which  came  Columbus's  first 
voyage  of  discovery,  the  search  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
and  Alexander's  expeditions. 

"Yes  and  no,  Colonel  Robinson,"  replied  General 
Winfree,  with  an  air  of  not  only  narrating,  but  making, 
history.  "Northern  capitalists  are  willing  enough  to 
supply  the  wherewithal.  Oh  yes !  But  they  realize 
the  temporary  financial  impotence  of  the  South  and 
they  exact  the  last  drop  of  blood;  and  the  carcass  as 
well."  The  heavy  mustaches  moved  up  and  down 
thrice;  he  was  sneering. 

"Oh,  not  all  Northern  capitalists,  General  Winfree!" 
said  Sam  with  a  sort  of  conciliating  dissent. 

"I  should  be  overjoyed  to  make  the  personal  ac 
quaintance  of  the  shining  exceptions  that  your  words 
would  imply  exist.  They  have  kept  out  of  my  way 
with  complete  success,  young  sir.  To  me,  politically," 
he  went  on,  with  an  air  of  great  magnanimity,  "there 
is  no  North,  no  South,  no  East,  and  no  West.  But  in 
business  the  ways  of  the  North  are  not  the  ways  of  the 
South.  And  I  thank  the  Almighty  that  they  are  not," 
he  finished,  without  the  air  of  magnanimity. 

"I  have  not  had  as  much  experience  in  business  as 
you,  General  Winfree,"  said  Sam,  "but  I  do  not  find 
much  difference  in  capitalists  anywhere.  All  of  them 
want  to  make  as  much  money  as  they  can.  Darrell 
here  has  had  many  dealings  with  British  capitalists, 
and  he  will  tell  you  that  London  is  as  bad  as  New 
York.  Some  people  have  money  to  buy  with  and 
others  have  property  to  sell.  The  point  of  view  is 
bound  to  differ." 

3°3 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

"Speaking  about  London  reminds  me,  Colonel  Robin 
son,"  said  General  Winfree,  temporarily  overlooking 
Sam's  impertinence  in  his  eagerness  not  to  forget  to 
repeat  bad  news;  "I've  just  seen  in  the  evening  papers 
that  the  Virginia  Central  bondholders'  committee  have 
received  an  adverse  report  from  their  expert."  It  was 
news  to  the  Colonel,  though  not  unexpected.  The 
General  looked  almost  happy  at  his  success. 

' '  The  stock  sold  in  New  York  to-day  at  twenty-seven 
and  seven-eighths,"  put  in  Major  Moreland,  to  show 
that,  though  he  was  not  loquacious,  he  was  entitled 
to  a  respectful  hearing  whenever  he  spoke.  "Some 
body  must  have  known  the  news  before  the  papers  got 
it."  He  nodded.  Almost  he  implied  he  knew  who 
the  somebody  was.  He  haunted  the  local  brokers' 
offices  and  knew  the  quotations  of  stocks  and  cotton 
just  as  though  he  were  a  plunger  instead  of  a  piker — 
the  brokers  were  so  unreasonable  in  the  matter  of 
margins!  He  was  the  kind  that  buys  mining  stocks 
to  get  rich,  as  per  advertisements — a  mental  miser 
that  loves  to  fondle  imaginary  gold  coins. 

"What  could  you  expect  from  a  man  of  Williams 's 
breeding?"  asked  Colonel  Robinson  with  a  show  of  in 
dignation.  It  was  news  he  did  not  like  to  get  at  this 
time  and  place.  General  Winfree  looked  at  him  sus 
piciously.  The  Colonel  went  on,  hotly:  "An  ass,  sir,  a 
corrupt  and  malignant  ass!  But  we  don't  need  foreign 
capital."  Colonel  Robinson  frowned:  he  himself  would 
supply  the  Virginia  Central's  needs  from  his  privy  purse. 
His  frown  and  his  attitude  showed  plainly  his  deter 
mination  to  do  so.  That  had  been  his  autohypnotic 
trance  these  many  years — before  this  same  public,  in 
this  same  club.  All  poses  in  time  become  habits. 

"You  need  any  kind  of  capital  you  can  get,"  said 
304 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Winfree  with  a  decisive  irascibility — it  had  been  sim 
mering  since  Sam's  audacity.  "All  that  your  stock 
holders  care  about  is  that  you  make  the  road  pay  divi 
dends.  And  the  way  to  do  it  is  to  improve  it,  and  to 
do  that  you  need  money.  And  you've  got  to  get  it — 
the  sooner  the  better."  General  Winfree  nodded  to 
himself.  He  agreed  with  General  Winfree,  the  unsur 
passed  logician. 

"General  Winfree,"  said  Colonel  Robinson  with 
much  dignity,  his  ruddy  face  several  shades  ruddier, 
"I  do  not  think  the  stockholders  of  the  Virginia  Cen 
tral  have  any  fault  to  find  with  the  road  or  with  the 
management.  It  has  been  my  sleepless  endeavor,  sir — 
my  sleepless  endeavor — " 

"The  repetition  of  the  word  sleepless,  Colonel  Rob 
inson,  in  connection  with  the  stockholders,  is,  as  you 
might  say,  quite  apropos."  And  General  Winfree 
laughed  disagreeably.  He  himself  had  been  jarred  by 
bankers.  Sam's  face  flushed  and  he  looked  quickly  at 
Darrell.  The  Westerner,  from  force  of  habit,  looked 
twice  as  stolid  as  the  Sphinx.  He  understood  what 
Sam  thought. 

"I've  just  travelled  over  the  Virginia  Central,"  in 
terjected  Sam,  calmly,  before  Colonel  Robinson  could 
retort,  "and  I  see  nothing  to  make  any  reasonable  man 
lose  sleep.  It's  not  the  management's  fault  if  the  coun 
try  through  which  it  passes  is  not  more  productive.  In 
my  opinion  it  has  a  great  future."  Colonel  Robinson 
looked  pleased,  and  was  about  to  speak  when  General 
Winfree  said,  so  politely  that  the  sneer  was  doubly 
effective: 

"You  are,  of  course,  a  large  stockholder  in  it,  young 
sir?" 

"Not  yet.  Are  you?"  Sam  remembered  how  boys 
3°5 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

goaded  other  boys  into  doing  foolish  things.  Curious 
were  the  tools  that  Providence  placed  at  the  disposal  of 
men  who  would  do  big  work!  But  there  need  be  no 
philosophizing  about  it.  Time  urged. 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  am." 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  "you  needn't  be.  I'll  take  your 
holdings  off  your  hands  any  time  you  say  so." 

"And  I  stand  ready  to  do  likewise,  General  Winfree," 
said  Colonel  Robinson  with  stupendous  dignity. 

"I  do  not  propose  to  sell  when  the  stock  is  at  the 
lowest  price  of  months — stock  that  I  purchased  on  the 
assurance  that  it  would  prove  a  valuable  investment." 
From  the  General's  manner  he  owned  a  million  shares. 
The  sin  of  Colonel  Robinson,  who  had  given  the  as 
surance,  was  beyond  characterization  in  a  gentleman's 
club. 

Before  Colonel  Robinson  could  retort  that  if  the 
General  had  sold  out  a  few  weeks  before  he  would  have 
made  a  fair  profit  on  his  two  hundred  shares,  Sam  said, 
with  a  smile: 

"I  thought  not!  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do—" 
His  hearers  were  disagreeably  made  aware  that  the 
young  Northerner  with  the  clean-cut  features  and  gray- 
blue  eyes  was  taunting  General  Winfree,  who  habitually 
browbeat  half  the  State  of  Virginia — "I'll  buy  all  the 
Virginia  Central  stock  you  own  at  ten  dollars  a  share 
more  than  the  highest  price  at  which  it  sold  on  the 
New  York  Stock  Exchange  to-day.  And  I  don't  care 
a  continental  whether  it's  one  share  or  one  hundred 
thousand!" 

"That's  a  pretty  broad  assertion,  young  sir,"  said 
the  General,  his  brows  frowning  and  his  lips  quivering. 
"The  spoken  word  of  an  adolescent  stranger  rather 
curiously  excited — " 

306 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

"General  Winfree,"  interrupted  Sam,  very  calmly, 
"I  may  be  young,  and  I  lack  the  phlegmatic  tempera 
ment  that  I  notice  all  elderly  people  have,  but  my 
word,  sir,  is  as  good  as  if  I  were  a  hundred  years  old 
and  a  philosopher,  because  I  can  back  it  up  with  good 
hard  cash.  And  money  talks,  you  know,  in  all  lan 
guages." 

Colonel  Robinson  looked  at  Darrell  a  trifle  uneasily 
and  Jack  said,  very  slowly,  almost  drawlingly: 

"I  guess  if  General  Winfree  wishes  to  dispose  of  his 
stock  in  the  road  managed  by  my  friend  Colonel 
Robinson,  he  will  find  us  ready  to  do  as  you  say, 
Sam." 

"General  Winfree,  your  play,  sir,"  said  Sam,  bowing 
politely,  but  looking  as  though  he  were  trying  to  re 
press  a  smile. 

The  General  thought  that  possibly  Robinson  had 
secured  new  allies.  He  sputtered:  "I  think,  of  course, 
that  the  stock  is  worth  more  than  thirty  dollars  a 
share."  At  this  price  his  holdings  showed  him  a  loss 
of  nearly  two  thousand  dollars.  He  had  overstayed 
his  market.  The  realization  of  it  did  not  make  him 
more  amiable. 

"Then  you  have  a  splendid  opportunity  to  make  a 
fortune  by  buying  more  and  holding  it  for  a  rise,  which 
I  think  is  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later.  Colonel 
Robinson  will  tell  you  that  I  am  not  a  stockholder  in 
his  road,  but  I  believe  in  it,  and  I  have  the  courage  of 
my  convictions  enough  to  agree  to  take  one  hundred 
thousand  shares  at  forty  dollars  or  fifty  dollars  a 
share—" 

"What?"  shouted  General  Winfree. 

Major  Moreland  said  nothing.  He  stared  fascinated 
ly  at  Sam.  Here  was  a  king-gambler,  a  man  of  real 

307 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL    STREET 

money.  In  the  turbulent  rush  of  the  golden  torrent  he 
— Tolliver  Moreland — might  be  splashed!  He  did  not 
know  how,  but  he  would  stand  near  by  and  never  dodge. 
Was  this  stock  going  up  on  the  mysterious  develop 
ments  Colonel  Robinson  had  even  more  mysteriously 
hinted  at?  He  listened  with  his  very  soul  as  the 
young  man  continued: 

"  Provided  you  have  the  stock  ready  at  10  A.M.  to 
morrow.  Colonel  Robinson,  that  will  show  some  of 
your  Southern  friends  what  some  of  your  Northern 
friends  think  of  you."  And  Sam  held  out  his  hand. 
Colonel  Robinson  shook  it,  not  over-enthusiastically. 
The  affair  was  degenerating  into  a  verbal  brawl;  and 
besides,  that  was  not  the  wise  way  to  secure  the  stock 
the  Northerners  said  they  needed  in  their  stock-market 
deal.  Darrell  and  his  young  friend  were  strangers  and 
would  be  gone  to-morrow.  But  Winfree  would  remain 
and  his  tongue  with  him ;  also  his  notion  that  eloquence 
consisted  of  a  succession  of  explosions,  and  arguments 
of  invective.  And,  what  was  worse,  many  people  in 
the  state  took  General  Winfree  at  General  Winfree 's 
own  valuation.  Colonel  Robinson  began  to  feel  sorry 
he  had  not  taken  Darrell's  check — certified.  It  was 
more  than  the  stock  was  worth. 

"You  ask  an  impossibility,  sir,  so  delicately  ex 
pressed  that  I  am  lost  in  admiration,"  said  the  General, 
witheringly. 

"General  Winfree,"  replied  Sam,  with  an  air  of  mak 
ing  an  effort  to  remain  calm  and  respectful  before  age, 
"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  speaking  merely  to  hear 
myself.  It  would  be  an  asinine  thing  for  me  to  offer  to 
buy  stock  from  you  at  forty  that  I  can  buy  for  thirty 
in  the  open  market,  and  possibly  for  less  to-morrow, 
though  I  hope  not.  What  I  had  in  mind  was  stock 

308 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF   WALL  STREET 

held  by  the  people  who  know  Colonel  Robinson  and 
are  not  satisfied  with  his  management.  Therefore  I 
said,  and  I  repeat,  that  I  will  buy  all  the  stock  that 
you  own,  General,  at  a  price  sufficiently  above  the 
prevailing  market-price  to  show  I  believe  in  doing 
justice  to  whom  justice  is  due.  Do  I  make  myself 
sufficiently  clear?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  put  in  Major  Moreland  be 
fore  General  Winfree  could  reply,  "that  you  will  pay 
fifty  dollars  a  share  for  one  hundred  thousand  shares 
of  Virginia  Central  stock?"  The  young  man  had  said 
forty  or  fifty.  He  affected  not  to  have  heard  the  lower 
alternative  figure. 

"Yes,  provided — "  began  Sam. 

"Of  course  there  is  a  proviso  with  the  courage  of 
the  convictions.  Of  course!"  sneered  General  Winfree. 
He  did  not  know  what  the  young  man's  talk  might 
mean.  When  in  doubt,  he  sneered.  Many  people 
thought  him  a  very  wise  man.  He  agreed  with  them. 
Thinking  of  his  reputation  now  made  him  nod  twice, 
sapiently. 

"Of  course;  yes,  sir,  of  course.  Provided" — Sam 
spoke  deliberately  because  he  knew  what  he  wanted — 
"  it  is  stock  of  people  who  are  dissatisfied  with  the  way 
my  friend  Colonel  Robinson  is  managing  the  road." 

"We  are  all  friends  of  Colonel  Robinson's,  sir,  whom 
we  have  known  and  admired  for  more  years  than  you 
have  spent  on  God's  green  footstool.  For  that  reason, 
sir,  we  devoutly  hope  that  what  you  say  of  the  road's 
future  may  be  fulfilled,"  said  Major  Moreland,  with  a 
sincerity  that  was  beyond  all  question.  He  went  on, 
deprecatingly,  "But  then,  doubtless — er — ignoramuses 
who,  as  you  say,  may  be  discontented,  however  illogi- 
cally,  with — ah — the  road's  earnings  and  the  talk  of 

309 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

labor  troubles  and  inability  to  float  the  bonds,  and 
they — "  He  paused.  He  was  quaking  inwardly. 
The  stock  might  go  up  in  the  future;  to-morrow, 
cloudy  and  cold.  Here  was  money  in  sight;  to-day, 
fair  and  sunshine. 

"Send  them  around,"  said  Sam,  exactly  as  though 
he  were  convinced  not  one  would  accept  his  offer  and 
that  Colonel  Robinson's  detractors  would  be  silenced 
forever  more.  "I'll  be  here  for  some  days  yet." 

"You  doubtless  would  make  that  offer  in  writing?" 
pursued  Major  Moreland,  as  he  thought,  diplomati 
cally.  His  question  was  a  verbal  pinch  to  himself  to 
determine  whether  he  was  asleep  or  awake.  It  was 
too  good  to  be  true. 

"If  Colonel  Robinson  doesn't  object,"  said  Sam, 
with  a  touch  of  deference,  "I  am  willing." 

The  Colonel  fidgeted,  and  replied,  deprecatingly:  "I 
cannot  object  to  so  gratifying  an  exhibition  of  con 
fidence  in  me,  which,  from  its  very  unexpectedness, 
touches  me  deeply.  But  I  really  think,  gentlemen — " 

"General  Winfree,  might  I  speak  with  you  one  mo 
ment?  If  these  gentlemen  will  pardon  me — "  And 
Major  Moreland  rose.  The  General  and  the  Major  re 
tired  to  a  remote  corner  and  talked  very  earnestly, 
from  time  to  time  the  Major  shaking  his  head  at  some 
low  but  vehement  words  of  the  General. 

Sam  leaned  over  and  whispered  to  Colonel  Robinson: 
1 '  This  is  the  best  way  to  tie  up  the  stock.  They  brought 
it  on  themselves.  Before  they  come  back  at  me  you 
must  promise  to  give  me  the  option  on  your  fifty  thou 
sand  shares.  Then  I'll  rush  back  to  New  York.  Jack, 
give  the  Colonel  your  check  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  now.  Go  into  the  other  room  while 
I  wait  here.  No  time  to  lose,  Colonel.  Wait  till  these 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

people  see  how  the  stock  will  recover.  They'll  sing  a 
different  tune,  and  nobody  can  blame  you.  You  will 
find  that  the  same  bond-houses  that  wouldn't  touch 
your  bonds  will  also  be  sorry.  Think  of  your  Capital 
Park  and  of  my  Austin  Iron  Company.  No  time  to 
lose!'1 

It  was  only  vaguely  that  Sam  felt  Winfree  and  More- 
land,  the  most  indiscreet  men  in  the  world,  would  be 
most  discreet  in  getting  the  stock  he  wanted.  Nobody 
would  suspect  these  men's  principal;  that  was  clear 
and  that  was  enough.  Hope  filled  his  heart.  Twice 
he  clutched  the  air  nervously.  It  made  him  look  like 
a  gambler  to  Colonel  Robinson,  one  who  took  big 
chances,  but  whomTfortune  favored. 

Darrell  seized  the  opportunity  and  deftly  took  the 
Colonel  into  the  next  room.  He  wrote  out  the  check 
and  gave  it  to  the  Central's  president  before  Colonel 
Robinson  could  say  his  name.  With  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars  in  his  pocket,  the  worst  that 
could  happen,  thought  the  Colonel,  would  be  to  lose 
his  fifty  thousand  shares  and  gain  three  million  dollars 
for  himself  and  his  family  if  the  options  were  exercised. 
And  there  was  always  the  open  market  before  him  in 
which  to  purchase  the  stock.  He  knew  his  relations 
would  be  overjoyed  to  sell  their  holdings  at  even  less 
than  sixty-five  dollars  a  share.  Promises  made  in 
bursts  of  enthusiasm  could  be  kept  now.  And,  if  the 
options  were  not  exercised,  the  stock  would  advance 
in  any  case  on  the  Darrell  development  of  Austin  coal 
and  iron.  That  he  was  helping  stock-gamblers  was 
colorless;  that  he  was  helping  Colonel  Robinson  was 
like  the  sunshine — golden. 

He  took  the  check  carelessly,  from  force  of  habitual 
pose,  and  went  back  with  Darrell  just  as  General  Win- 

3" 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

free  and  his   self-appointed  accomplice   were   sitting 
down  again  beside  Sam. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Darrell,"  said  the  General,  in  the  tone 
and  manner  he  would  have  used  had  he  been  charged 
to  deliver  a  challenge,  "will  make  me  an  offer  to  buy 
at  fifty  dollars  a  share  all  the  Virginia  Central  stock  I 
can  deliver  to  him?" 

"My  price  was  forty — "  began  Sam. 

" Or  fifty,  you  said,"  interjected  Moreland.  He 
smiled.  "You  certainly  said  it,  whatever  you  may 
have  meant."  The  Major  looked  pleadingly  at  the 
young  man.  He  subdued  himself  and  proceeded  to 
look  contemptuous.  The  philosophy  of  the  change 
of  expression  was  so  subtle  that  Moreland  felt  a  thrill 
of  pride. 

"Very  well.  Mr.  Darrell  will,  anyhow,  if  you  can 
deliver  enough  to  silence  the  anti-Robinson  faction 
once  and  for  all,"  replied  Sam,  with  the  good-nature  of 
a  man  who  is  overcharged  at  a  cafe*  after  a  "killing" 
at  the  race-track.  It  was  the  diminishing  distance 
between  himself  and  a  big  block  of  Central  stock  that 
animated  his  thoughts  and  words  and  his  very  gest 
ures.  He  felt  that  his  exultation  must  not  show. 
He  concealed  it  by  his  manner.  It  seemed  natural  to 
him.  Almost  within  his  grasp  was  the  prize.  That 
kept  him  from  thinking  of  other  things. 

"There  is  no  anti-Robinson  faction,  sir,  and  I  object 
to  your  unjustified  and  frequent  use  of  that  expres 
sion!"  shouted  General  Winfree,  irascibly.  "We  are 
all,  sir,  friends  of  Colonel  Robinson,  as  he  knows  with 
out  my  saying  it." 

"Excuse  me;  I  shall  not  use  it  again.  I  thought 
there  was  such  a  faction."  Sam  smiled,  not  at  all 
penitently. 

312 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

"No,  sir,  there  is  not.  We  cherish  a  warm  regard 
for  all  of  Virginia's  great  and  loyal  sons,  sir."  He 
glared  at  Sam — for  effect  on  Robinson.  The  General 
often  permitted  himself  to  think  that  Peyton  B.  Win- 
free  was  not  only  great  and  loyal,  but  also  courtly  and 
astute — very  decidedly  astute. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  General.  And  now, 
how  much  Virginia  Central  stock  from  Virginia's  other 
loyal  sons  will  you  deliver  to  us,  sir?"  Sam  almost 
repeated  his  flippancy,  because,  though  he  had  indeed 
meant  it  as  a  goad,  it  seemed  to  exasperate  Winfree 
to  the  verge  of  purple  apoplexy.  But  the  old  man,  by 
a  great  effort  and  a  quick  kick  from  Major  Moreland, 
contented  himself  with  sneering: 

"More  than  you  will  probably  care  to  see." 

"Mr.  Darrell,"  interjected  Major  Moreland,  with  a 
smile  he  could  not  keep  from  tinging  with  apprehen 
sion,  though  he  also  meant  it  as  a  prudence-dispelling 
taunt,  "may  only  have  been  jesting,  General  Winfree." 
Jack  was  the  older  man.  Moreland  made  him  respon 
sible.  Besides  which,  Colonel  Robinson  had  hinted 
that  Darrell  was  "good  for  millions."  The  young  man 
was  a  stranger,  and  Moreland  suddenly  remembered 
that  Robinson  was  one  of  God's  optimists.  But  Dar 
rell  looked  the  more  responsible. 

"Jack,  make  the  offer  in  writing,"  said  Sam.  Major 
Moreland  drew  in  his  breath.  He  heard  the  roar  of 
the  torrent.  The  little  waves  clinked.  He  stood  near 
the  shore.  He  must  be  splashed  !  Thinking  of  the 
golden  bath  kept  him  from  thinking  of  any  ulterior 
motives  these  Northern  sports  might  have.  That's 
all  they  were — gamblers,  reckless,  with  the  gambler's 
ignorance  of  the  value  of  money.  Some  of  the  new  stock- 
market  millionaires  often  bet  a  fortune  on  a  horse-race. 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

Paper  and  ink  were  brought  to  the  engineer,  who 
had  been  thinking  about  it,  and  he  therefore  was  able 
to  write,  with  an  impressive  appearance  of  spontaneity, 
which  accorded  with  Moreland's  theory  of  the  North 
erners'  recklessness: 

"  I  hereby  agree  to  purchase  from  General  Peyton  B.  Winfree 
not  less  than  fifty  thousand  and  not  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand  shares  of  the  stock  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad 
at  fifty  dollars  per  share,  ten  per  cent,  of  the  price  to  be  paid  on 
presentation  of  the  certificates  at  the  Southern  National  Bank 
of  Richmond,  Virginia,  an  additional  ten  per  cent,  thirty  days 
thereafter,  and  the  balance  of  eighty  per  cent  within  sixty  days 
from  this  date.  In  the  event  of  my  failure  to  pay  the  second 
instalment,  the  first  instalment  is  to  be  forfeited,  and  if  both 
the  first  and  the  second  instalments  shall  have  been  paid  and 
the  final  payment  is  not  made  on  or  before  the  date  specified, 
all  previous  payments  shall  be  forfeited  to  General  Winfree, 
the  stock  in  the  meanwhile  to  remain  in  escrow  with  the  presi 
dent  of  the  Southern  National  Bank  until  the  final  payment  is 
made  and  to  be  returned  by  him  to  General  Winfree  in  the 
event  of  the  failure  of  said  payment  to  be  made.  This  offer 
to  hold  good  until  twelve  o'clock  meridian  on  May  i5th.  It  is 
further  understood  that  this  applies  exclusively  to  stock  which 
shall  have  been  in  possession  of  the  present  owners  for  at  least 
three  months  previous  to  May  isth. 

"JOHN  A.  DARRELL." 

Darrell  read  it  aloud.     Sam  said: 

"There  you  are,  General." 

"Your  generous  and  philanthropic  offer,  sir,  is  full 
of  'provisos'  and  'ifs'  and  'buts,'"  said  General  Win- 
free,  disagreeably.  It  had  upset  a  very  naif  plan  of 
his. 

"Did  you  think  we  were  going  to  pay  fifty  dollars  a 
share  for  stock  that  you  could  buy  to-morrow  on  the 
New  York  Stock  Exchange  for  twenty  dollars  a  share 
less  ?  This  binds  you  to  nothing,  and  it  covers  all  your 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL  STREET 

stock  and  Major  Moreland's  and  your  other  friends 
who  have  held  it  more  than  a  few  weeks.  Put  in  '  and 
associates,'  Jack,  after  General  Winfree's  name.  That 
lets  in  everybody  in  Richmond  and  vicinity." 

Darrell  so  wrote,  and  Sam  said:  "Colonel  Robinson 
had  better  witness  this  document.  The  phraseology 
may  not  be  legal,  but  it  will  fully  hold.  It  is  backed 
by  the  word  of  Mr.  Darrell,  which  is  as  good  as  his 
bond" — and  Sam  looked  straight  into  General  Win 
free's  eyes,  as  man  to  man. 

"I  am  sure  that  makes  it  absolutely  to  be  depended 
on,  sir,"  put  in  Major  Moreland,  cordially.  "But  I  do 
not  think  our  conversation  should  become  public." 

"Certainly  not,"  affirmed  the  General,  fiercely. 

"As  you  please,"  said  Sam,  carelessly.  In  their 
eagerness  to  make  money,  Moreland  and  Winfree  would 
tell  the  owner  of  the  stock  many  things,  but  not  the 
truth.  This  thought  aroused  no  indignation  in  Sam. 
He  was  too  eager  to  get  the  stock. 

Moreland  nudged  General  Winfree.  The  old  man 
put  out  his  hand  to  Sam,  very  formally,  almost  as  if 
reluctantly.  Sam  shook  it  without  any  apparent  feel 
ing  whatever,  and  said: 

4 '  And  now,  sir,  let  me  say  the  last  word.  When  we 
came  to  Richmond  we  had  not  the  slightest  idea  we 
would  make  you  such  an  offer.  It  is  not  a  business-like 
thing,  on  the  face  of  it.  But  when  we  came  here  we 
also  did  not  know  Colonel  Robinson,  excepting  by  his 
reputation,  and,  now  that  we  know  him,  we  like  him. 
This,  and  my  belief  that  better  days  are  coming  for 
this  State,  and  coming  soon,  will  explain  my  action." 

"A  feeling  we  all  share  with  you,  gentlemen,"  said 
Major  Moreland,  in  duty  bound.  He  thought  better 
days  were  coming  for  the  Morelands. 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

It  made  a  pleasant  feeling  go  all  around.  Moreland 
was  living  in  the  blissful,  dollar-studded  future;  Colonel 
Robinson  was  already  tiding  over  his  troubles;  Sam 
saw  the  stock  he  needed  coming  towards  him  in  hordes ; 
Darrell  thought  the  buying-agents  had  been  selected  by 
Providence,  but  that  Sam  had  managed  it  very  well.  If 
anybody  else  but  a  rich  and  reckless  boy  had  made  the 
same  proposition,  the  device  would  have  been  too 
transparent. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  party  broke  up.  Sam  shook 
hands  very  warmly  with  Colonel  Robinson,  who  had 
been  very  thoughtful.  Was  it  a  trap  ?  Colonel  Robin 
son  felt  certain  that  Sam  liked  him,  which,  indeed,  Sam 
did,  now.  Did  these  Northerners  really  want  the  Vir 
ginia  Central  stock  to  make  a  big  plunge  in  the  stock- 
market  ?  The  Colonel  realized  that  they  had  complete 
ly  tied  up  the  Virginia-held  stock  by  this  manoeuvre, 
at  a  relatively  small  cost.  If  the  entire  stock-market 
had  not  been  so  weak,  and  if  Williams's  report  had 
not  been  adverse — and  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  had 
known  it  would  be  both  adverse  and  honest  —  the 
Colonel  would  have  suspected  buying  for  control;  and 
with  that  control  he  would  not  part,  because  it  meant 
more  than  money;  it  meant  the  prestige  of  the  road's 
presidency  and  a  life-long  habit.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  many  of  his  friends  took  the  same  view  that 
General  Winfree  did  of  his  management,  and  he  must 
have  the  Virginia  holders  friendly  to  him  if  he  would 
keep  the  control.  There  had  never  been  any  serious 
organized  opposition  to  him.  Before  elections  he  always 
promised — promised  anything.  But  now  the  obstinate 
and  narrow-minded  bankers  at  home  and  everywhere  else 
refused  to  lend  money  to  the  road — and  to  its  president. 
That  thought  helped  to  club  his  doubts  into  insensibility. 

316 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

At  the  door  of  the  club  Barrel!  said  to  him: 

"Colonel  Robinson,  I  think  you  will  hear  less 
grumbling  in  the  future.  If  by  any  chance  the  General 
should  produce  enough  stock  to  make  the  youngster's 
deal  more  profitable  than  we  now  hope  by  reducing  the 
amount  that  an  advance  would  bring  on  the  market, 
we  shall  do  what  is  right  by  you.  But  it  seems  to  me 
only  fair  to  say  that  we  look  to  you  to  do  the  right 
thing  by  us  in  Austin,  in  the  matter  of  rates  and 
facilities." 

Robinson  smiled  weakly.  "Still  at  it!  I  think  you 
always  get  what  you  want.  You  may  count  on  the 
Virginia  Central  to  do  what  is  right."  He  really  felt 
some  relief.  It  looked,  from  DarreH's  persistence,  as  if 
there  was  no  more  to  the  Darrell  scheme  than  they  said. 
At  the  worst  these  men  might  get  lower  freight  rates 
than  they  should,  but  the  Central  was  in  no  position 
to  pick  and  choose,  and  he  had  the  cash,  which  meant 
relief — which  was  precisely  what  Darrell  had  meant  he 
should  think. 

"That's  what  we  are  banking  on,"  said  Sam,  with  one 
of  his  pleasant,  boyish  smiles.  It  made  Colonel  Robin 
son  like  him.  After  all,  these  people  would  develop  the 
coal  lands  and  the  Virginia  Central  would  prosper. 
He  himself  had  often  spoken  of  the  same  buried  millions 
in  Austin  County,  and  once  he  even  tried  to  form  a 
syndicate  to  buy  all  the  mines  along  the  line  of  his  road. 
He  had  seen  coal  and  iron  booms  come  and  go.  He 
would  rather  gamble  in  suburban  real  estate.  After 
all,  whatever  might  happen  to  his  road  and  his  stock, 
these  men  would  enable  him  to  build  the  most  beautiful 
suburb  in  the  South.  It  was  a  good  price,  sixty-five 
dollars  a  share.  Almost  he  wished  they  would  buy 
his  stock  outright.  He  was  getting  old,  and  so  were 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

the  cars  and  locomotives  of  the  non-dividend-paying 
Virginia  Central ;  and  the  temper  of  many  of  his  friends 
and  fellow-stockholders  was  not  improving  with  age.  . .  . 
There  were  many  trees  in  Capital  Park,  beautiful  trees ; 
and  the  leaves  were  gold  coins  and  the  breeze  blew 
briskly.  .  .  .  The  music  kept  him  from  hearing  the 
whispers  of  suspicion.  And  sixty-five  dollars  a  share 
was  a  good  price.  It  had  been  a  shrewd  bargain.  .  .  . 
It  blew  a  gale. 


XXIII 

IN  Richmond  the  news  of  the  "panic"  in  Virginia 
Central,  as  the  sensational  newspapers  called  Samp 
son  Rock's  drive  against  the  stock,  helped  Major  More- 
land.  It  had  been  meant  to  help  Sampson  Rock.  The 
thought  of  making  money — real  cash — made  the  Major 
the  most  active  man  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line. 
He  personally  interviewed  scores  of  holders  whose 
names  and  addresses  he  secured  from  the  transfer  clerk 
of  the  railroad  company,  and  he  deputed  General  Win- 
free  to  spread  consternation  among  Colonel  Robinson's 
stanchest  friends  —  whose  stanchness  was  not  proof 
against  the  diminishing  number  of  dollars  in  the  market- 
price  of  their  investment.  The  newspapers  were  reck 
less  in  the  matter  of  space  and  dwelt  at  length  on  the 
labor  troubles  that  were  sure  to  come.  The  banks 
developed  a  habit  of  telephoning  to  Robinson  at  all 
hours  to  hear  about  the  bond  issue,  which  first  New 
York  and  now  London  bankers  had  refused  to  touch — 
also  in  the  matter  of  certain  notes  nearing  maturity. 
All  the  machinery  of  the  misfortune-factory,  set  in 
motion  by  Sampson  Rock,  worked  overtime,  until 
Colonel  Robinson  rejoiced  in  his  own  wisdom  in  giving 
the  option  on  his  holdings  even  to  stock-gamblers. 
Had  they  been  more  business-like,  less  plunger-like,  he 
would  have  suspected  so  many  things  that  he  might  not 
have  jeopardized  his  holdings  and  the  presidency  of  the 

3*9 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

road.  But  the  men  were  ticker-operators  first  and 
railroad  managers  a  distant  second.  In  that  distance 
Colonel  Robinson  found  safety  and  comfort. 

Sydney  had  called  Darrell  on  the  long-distance  tele 
phone,  and  Darrell  in  reply  had  instructed  him  to  buy 
as  much  Virginia  Central  at  from  twenty -nine  to  thirty- 
two  as  he  was  game  for,  also  assuring  him  that  the  mar 
gins  would  be  propped  up  to  his  entire  satisfaction. 
Darrell's  credit  was  good,  and  in  addition  he  trans 
ferred  all  his  ready  funds,  save  five  thousand  dollars,  by 
telegraph  from  his  bank  to  his  brokers.  It  gave  Sam 
a  little  over  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  with  Sydney, 
and  that  night  the  brokers  telegraphed  that  the  young 
man  was  "long"  nineteen  thousand  shares  of  Virginia 
Central,  much  of  which  had  been  bought  at  the  low 
prices,  so  that  the  average  on  the  "line"  was  only 
thirty -two  and  one -half.  Darrell  telegraphed  back 
that  they  would  return  to  New  York  in  a  day  or  two. 

Major  Moreland  had  slangily  assured  General  Win- 
free  that  the  rich  but  arrogant  Northerners  were  "their 
meat."  Personally  the  Major  did  not  permit  himself 
any  convictions  on  the  subject  save  one — that  he  stood 
to  make  money.  The  time  he  spent  with  the  scattered 
owners  of  Virginia  Central  stock  was  well  spent.  Noth 
ing  might  come  from  the  deal;  it  would  be  very  sad; 
but  already  his  prestige  had  been  raised  to  the  pedestal 
of  a  great  capitalist,  for  even  the  reflected  glory  of  gold 
can  exalt.  He  used  various  arguments  to  cajole  his 
friends  and  acquaintances  into  giving  options  on  their 
holdings,  greed  sharpening  his  wits  marvellously.  Cu 
riously,  one  of  his  whispers  was  that  world-famous  men 
— whom  he  knew  as  he  knew  so  many  other  world- 
famous  men — wanted  to  make  sure  they  would  not  be 
"squeezed"  in  their  short  sales  of  Virginia  Central  on 

320 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

the  New  York  Stock  Exchange,  and  therefore  sought 
options  on  the  stock  at  thirty-five  or  forty — or  forty- 
five,  as  he  said  to  those  who  smelled  a  mouse — which 
was  far  above  the  market-price,  and  indeed  the  intrinsic 
value  of  the  shares.  Stock-gambling  was  an  expensive 
luxury,  and  it  behooved  staid  business  men  to  supply 
the  luxury — at  a  price.  That  he  would  get  fifty  dollars 
for  the  same  stock  he  did  not  feel  it  necessary  even  to 
suggest — it  would  have  been  highly  unbecoming  in  a 
staid  business  man.  However,  all  he  was  able  to  secure 
was  about  thirty  thousand  shares. 

Darrell  had  gone  to  Austin  to  consult  with  Fletcher 
and  obtain  detailed  statistics  of  the  company's  resources 
and  undeveloped  property,  and  Sam  spent  most  of  his 
time  with  Judge  Abercrombie,  busy  with  the  Austin 
Iron  Company  options  which  were  coming  in  driblets. 
Sampson  Rock  was  pulling  the  wires  that  made  Vir 
ginia  Central  stock  rise  and  fall  within  a  range  of  three 
points — from  thirty  to  thirty-three — but  was  getting 
very  little  "real"  stock  on  the  "drives,"  because  the 
supply  from  the  sunny  South  on  which  he  had  reckoned 
was  not  trooping  tumultuously  into  his  open  bag,  and, 
moreover,  he  did  not  know  that  A.  Sydney  &  Co.  had 
bought  twenty  thousand  shares  that  should  have  been 
his.  The  reason  he  did  not  know  it  was  that  he  could 
not  suspect  Sam.  The  market  was  unsettled,  the  public 
afraid  to  buy  enough  and  the  professionals  afraid  to  sell 
too  much.  He  had  not  quite  ninety  thousand  shares 
— the  easy  and  profitable  ninety  thousand  shares — but 
before  he  began  to  put  up  the  price  he  waited  for 
market  conditions  to  crystallize,  as  he  knew  they  must. 
When  they  should  be  ripe,  Virginia  Central  would  go 
up  "naturally" — because  the  rest  of  the  market  would 
go  up  first.  Before  it  did  so,  Morson  would  visit 

321 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL  STREET 

Richmond.  But  it  was  well  to  let  the  market  become 
dull  in  the  mean  time. 

General  Winfree,  speaking  for  Major  Moreland,  asked 
Darrell  at  the  club  —  rather  offensively  because  he 
thought  it  masterly  strategy,  precisely  as  Sam  had 
done — to  waive  the  minimum  of  fifty  thousand  shares 
and  take  the  thirty-three  thousand  they  already  had 
secured — belonging,  he  said,  to  himself  and  "a  few 
friends."  Major  Moreland  had  nearly  two  hundred 
names  on  his  little  book;  they  did  not  seem  many  to 
him.  After  a  sneer  or  two  from  Winfree,  the  ingenuous 
Darrell,  with  obvious  reluctance,  gave  him  a  check  for 
one  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand  dollars.  The 
reluctance  pleased  the  General  almost  as  much  as  the 
check.  Colonel  Robinson  had  already  given  the  written 
option  on  his  fifty  thousand  shares,  and  ten  minutes 
after  paying  Winfree,  Sam  told  Darrell  to  send  a  draft 
for  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  Albert  Sydney  & 
Co.  with  instructions  to  buy  more  Virginia  Central,  very 
carefully. 

He  had  the  stock.  The  Virginia  Central  was  theirs — 
his  and  his  father's.  Strictly  speaking,  the  stock 
would  be  the  Roanoke's.  But,  after  assuming  that 
the  Roanoke's  was  his  father's,  Sam,  thinking  of  the 
life-work  before  him,  began  to  feel  a  proprietary  interest 
in  the  "Greater  Roanoke" — which  would  last  as  long 
as  he  lived.  He  even  began  to  study  the  unsuspecting 
Rogers  to  determine  for  himself  if  the  work  of  modern 
izing  the  former  Robinson  road  should  be  intrusted  to 
the  Roanoke's  best  division  superintendent. 

Sam's  last  order  made  Sydney  think.  Mysteries  are 
no  laughing  matter  in  Wall  Street.  Sydney  watched 
Virginia  Central  with  soulful  attention,  studying  the 
"trading" — the  buying  and  the  selling  of  it — very 

322 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

closely,  until  he  began  to  see  unmistakable  signs  of 
absorption,  very  careful,  very  adroit,  so  skilfully  cir 
cuitous  that  he  could  not  discover  by  whom  nor  for 
whom  the  stock  was  being  so  quietly  picked  up.  It 
began  to  look  to  Mr.  Albert  Sydney  as  if  he  had  un 
wittingly  aided  in  this  same  adroit  absorption. 

"I  might  have  known  they  were  using  Jack  as  a 
blind.  Of  course,  it's  Old  Man  Rock!  That  boy  is  no 
idiot.  He  fooled  me  /"  After  which  glowing  tribute  to 
Sam's  genius  Sydney  bought  one  thousand  shares  of 
Virginia  Central  for  his  own  personal  account  that  he 
might  share  in  the  good  thing — the  nature  of  which  he 
did  not  even  faintly  suspect — and  immediately  felt 
more  courage.  He  telegraphed  to  Darrell: 

"  I  am  now  carrying  twenty-two  thousand  shares.  Would 
like  to  see  more  margin.  When  do  you  return?" 

But  it  was  Sam  who  telegraphed  back: 

"  Don't  worry  about  margin.  Will  be  home  this  week. 
Buy  three  thousand  more. — S.  R.,  JR." 

And  Darrell  also  sent  word: 

"  Do  as  instructed.  Keep  your  pores  open  and  your  mouth 
shut. — JACK." 

That  day  Sydney  bought  three  thousand  more, 
completing  the  twenty  -  five  thousand  shares.  Not 
withstanding  his  suspicion,  if  it  had  not  been  that 
Virginia  Central  enjoyed  one  of  its  strong  spells  that 
day,  selling  at  around  thirty -five,  the  broker  would  not 
have  slept,  for  he  properly  assumed  that  if  the  deal, 
whatever  it  was,  fell  through,  the  stock  would  be  worth 
very  little.  The  potential  loss  on  the  twenty-five 

323 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

thousand  shares  was  too  big  for  comfort,  even  though 
he  knew  of  course  that  Darrell  and  young  Rock  were 
"good"  for  any  possible  drop. 

Even  while  Sam  was  on  his  way  back,  triumphant 
with  the  knowledge  that  at  a  risk  of  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  he  controlled  one  hundred  and  eight 
thousand  shares  of  Virginia  Central,  Mr.  Sampson  Rock 
had  begun  once  more  to  buy  the  stock  slowly,  but 
steadily,  selling  only  enough  to  check  over-rapid  ad 
vances.  He  telegraphed  to  Judge  Abercrombie  to 
report  the  frame  of  mind  of  Virginia  Central  stock 
holders  in  Richmond,  and  Abercrombie  telegraphed 
back: 

"  All  the  property  obtainable  in  this  vicinity  safely  located. 
Bulk  held  at  fifty  cents  or  better.  More  may  be  forthcoming 
above  that  figure,  as  faith  in  management  severely  shaken  by 
failure  English  deal.  Suggest  you  await  the  arrival  of  your 
son.— W.  A.'! 

The  last  sentence  made  Rock  frown.  What  had 
Sam  said?  How  indiscreet  had  he  been?  Sam  had 
left  Richmond,  and  Abercrombie  evidently  knew  more 
than  he  could  have  learned  from  the  phraseology  of 
Rock's  telegram.  Had  Sampson  Rock  delayed  over- 
long  the  effort  to  secure  at  private  sale  the  stock  held 
in  Richmond?  Private  negotiations  can  never  pre 
vent  suspicion,  and  he  had  left  them  for  the  last.  He 
would  drive  to  cover  a  few  shorts  before  another 
assault.  He  had  sent  for  Dunlap. 

"Dan,  you'd  better  run  up  Virginia  Central  three  or 
four  points.  Buy  all  you  can  carefully,  but  keep  it 
under  forty  if  the  short  interest  is  bigger  than  we  figure. 
Any  houses  here,  that  you  know,  carrying  Virginia 
Central?" 

324 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Yes;  Albert  Sydney  &  Co.  I  was  going  to  speak  to 
you  about  it  when  you  sent  for  me.  They  are  lending 
quite  a  wad  of  it." 

"Sydney?"  mused  Rock.  "Who  are  they?  For 
whom  do  they  do  business  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  are  a  quiet  firm.  They  have 
no  big  account  that  I  ever  heard  of.  I  asked  Sydney 
if  they  had  much  of  it  in  the  office  and  he  said  no ;  but 
he  is  lending  Jim  Greeley  five  thousand  shares,  and  I 
saw  him  in  the  loan  crowd  lending  it  in  five  hundred 
share  lots.  I  counted  twelve  thousand  shares  in  all." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  Sydney?" 

"Oh,  nice  sort  of  chap;  never  has  much  to  say.  He 
is  one  of  the  governors  of  the  Exchange,  you  know." 

"Who  are  his  partners?" 

"Only  one — A.  P.  Wheeler,  who  was  his  cashier  for 
years." 

"I'd  like  to  see  Sydney,  Dan.  Tell  him  to  come 
over." 

"Sure.  I  say,  Sampson,  he  is — "  began  Dunlap,  in  a 
warning  voice.  He  would  not  have  Sampson  Rock  in 
sult  Sydney  by  unworthy  offers  or  impertinent  ques 
tions.  The  average  man  is  apt  to  doubt  every  other 
man's  tact. 

"I  know, "interrupted  Sampson  Rock.  The  govern 
ors  of  the  Exchange  were  all  honorable  men;  and  some 
of  them  were  intelligent.  But  they  were  men,  and 
therefore  had  tongues  to  answer  questions  with. 

"All  right.  Ill  send  him.  He  is  a  pretty  square 
fellow,  Sampson." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sydney?"  said  Sampson  Rock, 
very  politely,  ten  minutes  later.  "Thank  you  for  com 
ing  over.  It's  only  fair  you  should,  because  I'm  so 
much  older,  you  know.  Mr.  Sydney,  I  should  like  to 

325 


SAMPSON  ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

give  your  firm  some  confidential  business.  I  am  cer 
tain  you  can  do  it."  Sampson  Rock  would  trust  Albert 
Sydney  &  Co.'s  integrity  and  discretion  to  the  extent 
of  millions.  That  was  quite  evident  from  Sampson 
Rock's  manner. 

"We  should  be  very  glad  to  do  it  for  you,  Mr.  Rock, 
said  Sydney,  simply.  He  knew  the  Old  Man  by  sight 
and  had  long  admired  him  for  his  abilities  and  his 
versatility. 

"I  have  been  told  that  you've  been  somewhat  active 
in  Virginia  Central  lately  ?"  The  versatile  Rock  looked 
mildly  inquisitive  at  the  broker. 

"We  have  done  a  little  in  it;  yes,  sir.  But  I  can't 
say  we've  been  active,  exactly." 

"Have  you  any  special  information  on  it  that  you 
can  give  me  without  violating  any  confidences?" 

"No,  sir.  I  have  no  information  about  it  one  way 
or  another.  We  had  some  orders  from  customers  and 
we  executed  them." 

Rock's  eyes  did  not  leave  the  broker's  face.  But 
Sydney  was  looking  back  calmly,  as  though  he  would 
not  for  worlds  withhold  facts  from  generous  Mr.  Rock, 
who  was  going  to  give  him  a  profitable  confidential 
business. 

"Have  you  any  opinion  of  your  own  on  the  stock?" 

"No,  sir.     I  can't  say  that  I  have." 

"Well,  you  must  have  watched  it  lately.  If  you 
had  any  of  it  yourself  which  showed  you  a  nice  profit 
now,  would  you  sell  it,  simply  from  what  you've  seen  of 
the  trading  in  it  ?" 

Sydney  hesitated.  He  very  much  desired  the  Old 
Man's  account — it  was  good,  safe  business,  and  there 
might  be  satisfying  crumbs  at  banquet-time.  But  he 
could  not  forget  Sam's  injunction.  Perhaps  the  boy 

326 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

was  working  unknown  to,  or  even  against,  the  Old  Man. 
More  likely  he  had  bought  on  the  Old  Man's  advice. 
If  Mr.  Rock  had  bought  some  for  a  turn,  there  was  no 
need  to  say  he  suspected  steady,  but  quiet  and  there 
fore  important,  buying.  He  answered: 

"It  would  depend  on  what  I  thought  the  rest  of  the 
market  would  do." 

"I  see,"  said  Sampson  Rock.  "Now  I  would  like 
you  to  buy  for  me  to-morrow,  at  the  opening,  five 
thousand  shares  of  Roanoke,  at  the  market,  but  don't 
climb  for  it.  And  please  clear  it."  He  rang  the  bell 
for  Valentine,  and  told  him:  "Mr.  Sydney  will  buy  five 
thousand  Roanoke  for  me  to-morrow.  Give  him  a 
check:  account  R." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

"I  may  want  you  to  sell  some  Virginia  Central  for 
me,  Mr.  Sydney,  very  carefully." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Your  office  is  still  long  of  it,  I  take  it?" 

"Quite  possibly.  But  whether  it  is  or  not,  Mr. 
Rock,  you  needn't  fear  for  one  moment  that  we — " 

"I  don't,  Mr.  Sydney;  not  for  one  moment.  I'm 
very  glad  to  have  met  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  want  to  say,  Mr.  Rock,  that  if 
we  should  happen  to  sell  Virginia  Central  to-morrow  or 
buy  Roanoke  it  will  not  be  because — " 

"My  dear  chap,"  said  Rock,  quite  amiably,  because 
he  now  knew  Sydney's  purchases  of  Virginia  Central 
had  not  been  for  any  possible  opponent,  which  was  all 
that  might  have  made  Sydney's  buying  important,  "if 
I  thought  you  were  that  kind  of  a  man,  do  you  suppose 
I'd  have  sent  for  you?  I  knew  all  about  you  before  I 
told  Dunlap  to  ask  you  to  come  here.  Have  you  ever 
had  any  orders  from  Mr.  Dunlap?" 

327 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"No;  not  that  I  remember." 

"Well,  you  will  hereafter." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Rock." 

"Don't  mention  it.  And,  I  say,  Mr.  Sydney,  if  you 
should  hear  any  gossip  about  Virginia  Central,  or  Great 
Southern,  you  might  let  me  know,  if  you  will.  And 
about  Roanoke,  too."  And  he  smiled. 

Sydney  also  smiled — appreciatively — the  idea  of  his 
telling  Rock  anything  about  Roanoke! — and  answered: 

"I  certainly  will.     Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Rock." 

That  night  while  Sampson  Rock  was  at  his  club  he 
was  called  to  the  telephone.  Sam  was  speaking  from 
Washington. 

' '  Hello,  Dad !  This  is  Sam.  How  are  you  ? — What  ? 
— I  said,  how  are  you? — Oh,  I'm  fine! — How's  the  mar 
ket? — What?— I  can't  hear— How's  V.  C.  ? — Do  you 
think  it's  going  up  now? — I  only  wanted  to  know  if 
you'd  swept  up  all  the  loose  stuff  that  was  floating 
around. — I'm  going  to  stay  here  until  to-morrow  to 
meet  some  of  Darrell's  friends. — About  the  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  ? — I'll  tell  you  about  that  when  I  see 
you.  Take  care  of  yourself,  Dad.  I  must  go  now; 
they  are  waiting  for  me.  Good-bye." 

A  minute  after  he  rang  off  Sam  sent  a  telegram  to 
Sydney: 

"  Buy  as  much  more  of  our  specialty  as  you  can  without  get 
ting  heart  disease.  Will  be  in  New  York  Thursday." 

Sydney  on  the  next  day  bought  twenty-five  hundred 
shares  of  Virginia  Central  for  Sam,  paying  up  to  forty 
and  one-half  for  it.  Dunlap  reported  this  to  Sampson 
Rock,  who  frowned  and  devoted  his  attention  to  put 
ting  up  Roanoke  from -seventy-five  to  seventy-seven. 
It  closed  at  seventy-six  and  three-quarters,  and  Vir- 

3*8 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

ginia  Central  at  thirty-nine.     The  rest  of  the  market 
was  also  strong,  but  Roanoke  was  the  leader. 

At  the  club  that  night  Sampson  Rock  and  a  number 
of  his  associates  held  an  informal  council  of  war.  They 
agreed  that  the  market  ought  to  go  up,  and  each  man 
agreed  to  take  care  of  his  own  stocks.  Sampson  Rock 
was  not  loquacious,  but  they  knew  he  would  do  as 
much  as  the  most  optimistic  of  them  promised  to  do. 
Before  he  went  home  he  had  formed  a  pool  to  advance 
Roanoke.  The  Virginia  Central  deal  he  kept  to  him 
self  and  the  three  men  who  always  went  in  with  him 
in  all  his  deals.  They  knew  what  he  was  about  to  do 
with  the  Virginia  Central  and  the  Roanoke.  He  did 
not  require  any  advice  or  any  money  from  them. 
When  he  did  he  said  so,  and  their  checks  were  quite 
as  prompt  in  coming  as  their  advice.  That  same 
evening  Morson  left  for  Richmond.  Sampson  Rock 
would  give  him  three  days.  That  was  enough  time  for 
such  a  man,  who  knew  what  such  a  master  desired. 

The  stock-market  opened  strong  and  developed  a 
very  pronounced  rising  tendency  as  the  day  wore  on. 
But  not  all  manipulators  were  as  skilful  as  Sampson 
Rock,  who  made  Roanoke  rise  to  eighty  during  the 
first  hour.  In  other  stocks  the  artificiality  of  the 
subsequent  advance  was  so  obvious  as  to  arouse  not 
enthusiasm  but  scepticism  and  suspicion  in  wise  minds. 
One  of  the  wisely  incredulous  minds  belonged  to  Gil- 
martin.  He  called  on  Rock  to  learn  if  the  Old  Man  also 
was  wise. 

"Mr.  Gilmartin,  I'm  very  busy  to-day,"  said  Rock, 
curtly.  It  made  Gilmartin  feel  very  angry  at  Rock 
and  sorry  for  Gilmartin.  He  wasted  no  time,  but 
asked,  point-blank,  the  usual  question: 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  market,  Mr.  Rock?" 
329 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

"Up!"  answered  Rock,  from  the  ticker.  Gilmartin's 
heart  did  the  reverse ;  it  sank. 

"And  Virginia  Central?" 

"Somebody's  buying  it."  Rock  was  studying  the 
ticker  unblinkingly. 

"It  looks  to  me  like  short  covering,"  ventured  Gil- 
martin. 

"Quite  likely." 

"I — er — Mr.  Rock — you've  been  so  good  to  me  I 
don't  want  to  bother  you  when  you  are  so  busy.  But — 
er — do  you  think  I  ought  to  cover?" 

"Cover?  Ah!"  And  Rock,  staring  at  Gilmartin,  sud 
denly  looked  as  if  he  remembered.  "Great  Heavens, 
man,  didn't  you  cover  on  the  break?" 

"N-no,  sir." 

"You  are  a  fool!"  Rock  told  him,  irritably.  "You 
had  a  fine  profit.  Did  you  want  to  make  a  million?" 

Gilmartin  felt  that  Rock  had  made  one  by  not  being 
avaricious.  But  poor  Gilmartin's  beautiful  paper  profit 
had  been  gnawed  away  by  the  ticker's  teeth,  and  there 
seemed  no  likelihood  of  its  being  restored  by  the  same 
gnawing  fiend  incarnate.  Gilmartin  despairingly  began 
to  defend  himself: 

"No,  sir.     But  the  stock  was  worthless — " 

"The  stock  was  not  worthless.  No  stock  of  a  rail 
road  that's  not  in  a  receiver's  hands  is.  Did  you  ex 
pect  to  buy  it  in  at  two  or  three  dollars  a  share?" 

"You  yourself  said  the  road — "  Gilmartin  was  at 
bay. 

"And  you  yourself  were  a  hog!  That's  the  truth  of 
it.  The  road's  unchanged;  but  the  general  market  is 
in  far  stronger  condition  than  it  was  when  I  spoke  to 
you."  Gilmartin  looked  so  sincerely  wretched  that 
Rock  laughed.  He  took  another  look  at  the  ticker. 

330 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

All  was  going  well.  He  therefore  turned  to  Gilmartin 
and  said,  cheerfully:  "Never  mind,  Gilmartin.  You 
are  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  You  always  want  a 
little  more  than  you  are  entitled  to.  Cover  your  Vir 
ginia  Central.  It  may  not  go  up  right  away,  but  the 
rest  of  the  market  will  carry  it  along.  If  there's  any 
loss,  tell  Valentine  to  charge  it  to  me.  And  tell  him  I 
said  to  buy  you  a  couple  of  hundred  Roanoke.  It's 
seventy-eight  and  one-half  now.  It  ought  to  go  to  par. 
I'm  not  ready  to  tell  you  more  now,  but  there's  some 
thing  going  on.  You'll  get  the  news  when  I'm  ready, 
and  don't  ask  questions." 

"Increased  dividend?"  irrepressibly  said  Gilmartin, 
voicing  both  his  suspicion  and  his  new  golden  hope. 

"Don't  ask  me  questions!  Next  time  you  do  it  will 
be  the  last."  He  rang  the  bell  for  Valentine,  and  said: 

"Buy  two  hundred  shares  of  Roanoke  for  Gilmartin. 
I'm  very  busy,  Gilmartin.  Come  again  later.  And  if 
you  do  any  more  guessing,  don't  print  it." 

Gilmartin  left  him,  half -dazed.  He  almost  hoped, 
like  the  veriest  lamb,  that  his  paper  profits  of  about 
five  thousand  dollars,  which  had  dwindled  to  a  few 
beggarly  hundreds,  would  come  back.  Only  this  hope 
kept  him  from  thinking  seriously  of  suicide  or  murder. 
As  it  was,  murder  had  been  done,  Sampson  Rock  hav 
ing  thoughtlessly  eviscerated  Gilmartin 's  hopes.  The 
new  potential  treasure-trove  of  Roanoke,  given  to  him 
by  the  same  sanguinary  Rock,  only  half-comforted  the 
victim  of  Virginia  Central's  illogical  rally.  Therefore, 
in  his  news-slips  he  wrote  that  the  rise  in  Virginia  Cen 
tral  was  due  exclusively  to  the  determination  of  one 
clique  of  professionals  to  compel  another  clique  of  pro 
fessionals  to  cover.  Since  the  road  remained  the  same 
and  the  management  unchanged  and  the  company's 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

need  of  funds  still  unrelieved,  as  soon  as  the  two  cliques 
were  done  fighting  each  other  the  price  would  probably 
go  back  to  where  it  should,  if  intrinsic  value  alone  were 
considered,  which  was  far  below  thirty.  He  wrote  this 
in  the  hope  that  the  mob  would  believe  it.  Such  a 
belief  would  restore  the  vanished  profit  and  the  golden 
independence. 

Of  Roanoke  he  said  that  important  developments 
were  in  progress  calculated  greatly  to  enhance  the 
value  of  the  stock.  Prominent  insiders  made  no  secret 
of  their  belief  that  the  stock  would  sell  at  par  by  reason 
of  the  value-making  deal,  concerning  which  it  was 
premature  to  speak,  though  there  was  every  prospect 
that  the  plans  under  consideration  would  go  through. 
He  also  published  the  road's  recent  earnings  because 
they  showed  increases,  just  as  he  had  given  the  Virginia 
Central's  because  they  showed  decreases.  Of  other 
stocks  he  did  not  write  optimistically.  He  preferred 
rather  to  make  money  on  the  down  side,  through  Vir 
ginia  Central,  which  he  considered  owed  him  five  thou 
sand  dollars,  than  on  the  up-track  with  Roanoke.  It 
was  a  human  enough  prejudice.  He  even  bitterly  be 
moaned  his  ill-luck,  and  blamed  everybody  but  himself 
for  not  having  converted  the  elusive  paper  profit  into 
good  hard  cash  when  the  opportunity  was  before  him — 
for  having  wanted  more — more — more — at  the  wrong 
time.  That  was  his  only  sin — not  wanting  more,  but 
wanting  it  at  the  wrong  time. 

Roanoke  quickly  rose  to  eighty-two.  The  entire 
market  was  strong  and  active — so  strong  that  many 
shrewd  people,  whose  theory  of  the  stock-market  was 
based  on  mechanics  and  cynicism,  became  suspicious. 
The  bull  manipulators  had  begun  to  find  considerable 
professional  selling  on  the  advance  and  very  little  re- 

332 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

sponse  from  the  public.  More  to  stimulate  the  rest  of 
the  market  than  because  he  desired  fire-works,  Rock  put 
up  Virginia  Central  two  points  by  the  purchase  of  only 
nine  hundred  shares.  The  scarcity  of  offerings  was  so 
obvious  that  it  showed  the  floating  supply  had  been 
absorbed  by  some  one.  It  let  loose  many  rumors; 
among  others,  one  that  the  Great  Southern  was  after 
it.  It  was  a  false  step,  that  day's  rise  in  Virginia 
Central.  But  not  beyond  recovery.  After  all,  the 
Street  was  not  sure  of  it.  But  it  made  Sampson  Rock's 
work  a  trifle  more  difficult. 


XXIV 

THE  bears  began  to  sell  Roanoke  tentatively  and 
Rock  let  them  do  it  without  the  slightest  concern. 
Whatever  they  sold  now  they  would  have  to  buy  back 
later;  therefore  the  more  the  merrier,  for  if  they  sold 
at  eighty-two  and  bought  back  at  eighty-four  or 
eighty-six,  the  difference,  though  slight,  would  be 
pleasant.  But  there  suddenly  developed  scattering 
buying  of  Virginia  Central  that  he  could  not  account 
for.  It  might  mean  nothing,  but  he  knew  that  an 
order  to  buy  ten  thousand  shares  of  the  stock,  which 
one  of  the  plunging  professionals  might  easily  take  it 
into  his  reckless  head  to  give,  would  make  the  price 
rise  sensationally,  and  that  would  not  do  at  all — not 
yet.  Competitive  buying  is  all  very  well  when  only 
a  few  thousand  shares  more  are  needed  and  the  price 
is  consequently  of  little  importance,  since  the  average 
cost  is  already  practically  fixed.  He  had  barely  ninety 
thousand  shares,  and  he  disliked  to  reduce  his  holdings 
by  selling  should  such  buying  develop.  He  heard  with 
displeasure  the  rumor  that  the  Great  Southern  was 
after  the  Virginia  Central.  It  was  untrue,  of  course, 
but,  if  enough  people  believed  it,  Virginia  Central  was 
bound  to  rise  inopportunely.  It  would  also  make  those 
who  had  Virginia  Central  stock  hold  it  with  the  tenacity 
begotten  of  a  fresh  and  blossoming  hope — and  Sampson 
Rock  had  striven  to  make  that  same  hope  wither. 

334 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Even  now,  a  fresh  slump  in  Virginia  Central  would 
do  much  good.  Such  a  thing  would  be  contrary  to 
the  general  market's  tendency  and  thus  be  doubly 
ominous.  That  slump  would  come  when  Morson,  in 
Richmond,  would  give  the  word.  The  people  in  Vir 
ginia  who  had  not  sold  when  the  stock  was  thirty 
would  sell  if,  after  touching  forty,  the  price  began  once 
more  to  decline.  They  would  figure  that  on  the  second 
slump  it  would  make  a  lower  record  than  ever.  Sydney 
would  get  some  big  selling  orders  and  instructions  to 
execute  them  very  carefully.  That  would  make  Syd 
ney's  customers  think  about  the  wisdom  of  holding 
their  Central  stock. 

The  Epoch,  however,  came  out  the  next  morning 
with  a  long  article  on  the  first  page,  saying  it  had  the 
highest  unofficial  authority  for  the  statement  that  the 
Great  Southern  had  bought  the  controlling  interest  of 
the  Virginia  Central  road.  The  writer  took  great  pains 
and  much  space  to  show  how  very  valuable  the  Virginia 
Central  was  and  how  its  acquisition  would  make  the 
Great  Southern  the  most  powerful  railway  system 
south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  The  Epoch's  Rich 
mond  correspondent  was  a  complaisant  and  diligent 
man,  and,  having  been  asked  by  his  New  York  paper 
to  ascertain  if  any  big  blocks  of  Virginia  Central  had 
quietly  changed  hands  recently,  was  able  to  learn 
enough  about  General  Winfree's  manoeuvre  and  to 
surmise  enough  of  Robinson's  financial  condition  to 
telegraph  back  that  a  local  syndicate  had  corralled  some 
stock  and  had  turned  it  over  to  parties  unknown.  At 
the  New  York  end  of  the  wire  a  few  changes  were  made 
in  the  despatch,  among  others  to  substitute  "Great 
Southern"  for  "parties  unknown,"  and  "huge  block" 
for  "some  stock."  The  "huge  block"  supplemented 

335 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

by  what  the  Great  Southern  people  had  "quietly 
picked  up"  in  the  open  market  gave  Roanoke 's  rival 
"the  control."  The  writer  added  that  President  Rob 
inson  had  "significantly"  declined  to  deny  or  confirm 
the  report. 

It  was  quite  obvious  that,  by  the  deal,  the  Roanoke 
fell  back  definitely  into  second  place — it  never  had 
been  indisputably  first.  But  that  was  not  the  reason 
Sampson  Rock's  irritation  was  so  great  when  he  read 
the  article.  Before  the  market  opened  he  gave  his 
brokers  orders  to  sell  one  thousand  shares  of  Virginia 
Central  every  eighth  of  a  point  from  forty-two  up — 
and  also  to  take  back  the  same  stock,  on  the  downward 
reaction,  at  a  quarter  of  a  point  below  each  broker's 
selling-price.  In  Roanoke  he  gave  supporting  orders, 
one  thousand  shares  every  eighth  of  a  point  down,  from 
eighty  to  seventy-five.  The  stock  had  closed  at  eighty- 
two.  That  should  be  more  than  ample,  since  Rock 
knew  the  story  was  a  canard  and  he  was  at  peace  with 
all  the  other  big  capitalists  who  might  fight  with  six- 
teen-inch  guns. 

The  concern  of  the  bull  clique — which  had  "in 
spired"  the  article  by  the  simple  device  of  telling  the 
reporter  they  had  heard  the  news  in  confidence,  but 
that  it  was  sure  to  come  out  in  a  day  or  two — was 
chiefly  with  Great  Southern,  and  the  stock  rose  six 
points,  being  duly  assisted  by  the  clique  brokers. 
Virginia  Central  tried  to  rise  in  sympathy  with  its 
absorber's  advance,  but  the  weight  of  Sampson  Rock's 
sales,  as  well  as  some  by  friends  of  the  Great  Southern, 
insiders  who  knew  the  report  was  untrue,  and  therefore 
bought  Great  Southern  while  they  sold  the  other,  kept 
Virginia  Central  from  doing  more  than  flutter  feebly 
in  its  effort  to  soar.  As  for  Roanoke,  it  went  down  to 

336 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

seventy -nine  and  seven  -  eighths  and  went  back  to 
eighty-two.  It  was  a  fizzle — the  sensation — so  far  as 
Virginia  Central  was  concerned,  but  the  failure  of  the 
jobbing  clique  did  not  lift  Sampson  Rock's  ill-humor. 
He  could  not  punish  the  Great  Southern  crowd  because 
he,  like  themselves,  was  committed  to  the  bull  side. 
He  tried  to  telephone  to  Richmond  early,  but  there 
was  an  electrical  storm  south  of  Washington  and  the 
wires  did  not  work  well.  He  telegraphed  to  Morson  to 
lose  no  time,  and  asked  for  details  of  what  had  been 
done  in  the  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  the  locally 
held  Virginia  Central  stock.  It  was  Judge  Abercrom- 
bie  who  answered,  his  message  being  delayed  in  trans 
mission: 

"  Your  son  has  full  details. — W.  A." 

His  son  had  no  business  to  have  full  details  nor 
Abercrombie  to  know  that  there  were  any  details 
whatever.  It  was  therefore  precisely  the  worst  mo 
ment  for  Sam's  triumphant  return,  a  few  minutes 
after  Abercrombie 's  despatch. 

Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  was  in  fine  spirits,  and  looked  it. 

"Hello,  Governor!"  he  shouted,  happily,  from  the 
door  of  the  office.  He  loved  his  father  for  what  he 
had  been  and  for  what  he  would  be.  A  worker  of 
wonders,  a  prestidigitator  of  dollars;  but  a  builder  of 
railroads,  a  giver  of  work,  a  general,  and — his  father. 
The  worker  of  wonders  might  be  vexed  at  the  philan 
thropy  of  the  ignoramus,  but  the  father  should  sympa 
thize  with  the  game  as  played  by  his  son.  And,  more 
over,  there  was  the  Great  Work — the  development  of 
the  coal-fields,  the  enlargement  of  the  iron- works,  the 
modernization  of  the  obsolete  Virginia  Central — a  man's 
task!  .  .  . 

337 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"How  do  you  do,  Sam?"  said  Sampson  Rock.  His 
ticker-hypnotized  eyes  lighted  up;  the  boy  looked 
well,  happy,  affectionate.  They  shook  hands. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  time,  Sammy  ?"  Rock  smiled, 
though  the  ticker  was  whirring  away  furiously. 

"You  bet!  How's  the  market?"  It  was  unfortu 
nate.  Sam  approached  the  ticker.  "Great  Scott,  forty 
for  Virginia  Central!"  He  turned  and  said,  irrepressi- 
bly:  "Bully  for  you,  Dad!"  The  stock  was  not  so  far 
from  the  price  he  had  paid  Winfree  and  Moreland. 

"What  details  have  you  that  Abercrombie  says  you 
had?  What  have  you  been  doing  in  Richmond?" 
asked  Sampson  Rock,  sharply,  almost  reproducing  the 
staccato  speech  of  the  ticker. 

Sam  turned  quickly.  Sampson  Rock  was  frowning, 
probably  only  from  force  of  habit.  He  looked,  for  all 
his  frown,  unenlightened.  Sam  replied,  calmly: 

"Exactly  what  you  told  me  to  do." 

"What  is  it?  What?"  questioned  Sampson  Rock, 
impatiently.  He  was  still  annoyed  by  the  miscarriage 
of  his  calculations.  He  had  planned  deliberately,  and 
had  considered  every  contingency  carefully.  The  plan 
should  have  gone  through  without  a  hitch  and  he  should 
by  now  have  acquired  fully  two-thirds  of  the  one  hun 
dred  and  seventy-five  thousand  shares  of  the  Virginia 
Central  by  means  of  the  campaign  of  depression,  ex 
actly  as  he  had  planned  to  do.  The  Southern  holdings 
of  the  stock  had  not  come  out,  for  all  that  the  road 
was  discredited  at  home  and  Robinson  was  up  to  his 
ears  in  the  slough  of  financial  despond.  He  now  ex 
pected  that  Morson  would  telegraph  bad  news — that 
is,  suspicious  stockholders  and  a  tight  grip  on  the 
shares. 

"You  told  me,"  said  Sam,  conscious  that  he  was  not 

338 


SAMPSON  ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

acting  or  talking  as  he  had  meant  to  act  and  speak, 
and  yet  somehow  unable  to  blurt  out  the  whole  story 
without  preamble,  "to  get  facts  the  next  time  I  spoke 
to  you  about  your  business."  He  paused.  Then  he 
finished,  a  trifle  defiantly,  by  reason  of  the  look  on 
his  father's  face:  "Well,  I've  got  them."  He  was  not 
thinking  of  what  he  had  been,  nor  of  what  he  was,  but 
of  what  he  would  be:  He  would  reorganize  the  Virginia 
Central  in  due  time,  and  his  father  would  help  him. 
But  he  felt  that  his  father  would  insist  on  a  few  more 
years  at  the  railroad  kindergarten  and  the  habit  of 
listening,  not  of  speech. 

"I  didn't  tell  you  to  spend  half  a  million  to  get  them," 
began  Rock,  irritably. 

"I've  spent  more  than  that,  Dad."  Sam  smiled. 
It  was  not  a  fatuous  smile;  rather  it  was  meant  to  be 
an  encouraging  and  conciliating  grin — to  prepare  the 
ground  by  allaying  irritation.  But  Sampson  Rock  said, 
impatiently: 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Sam,  don't  play  at  having 
brains!  You  discourage  me.  What  have  you  done? 
Have  you  seen  Morson?  What  does  Abercrombie's 
telegram  mean?" 

"I'm  not  sure  I  know  what  he  means,"  said  Sam, 
with  composure,  "not  knowing  what  he  has  telegraph 
ed  you."  Sampson  Rock  misread  Sam's  look.  It 
seemed  to  him  one  of  empty-headed  complacency.  It 
exasperated  him.  He  muttered  something  that  sound 
ed  like  a  dissyllabic  oath.  Sam  went  on: 

"I  found  out  you  had  sent  Morson  after  options  on 
all  the  Austin  County  coal-lands  he  could  lay  his  hands 
on.  So  I've  secured  sixty-eight  per  cent,  of  the  stock 
of  the  Austin  Iron  Company  at  a  little  over  forty 
dollars  a  share." 

339 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Sampson  Rock  actually  sighed.  It  was  a  half -impa 
tient,  half -resigned  sigh,  an  exhalation  inarticulate  but 
subtly  profane.  He  shook  his  head  and  said: 

"That  was  foolish,  Sam.  Hang  it,  the  time  wasn't 
ready  for  it!" 

"Yes,  it  was.  The  moment  the  Virginia  Central 
was  safe  in  your  possession,  that  was  the  time  to  get 
the  iron  company's  stock.  Of  course,  people  would 
sell  it  at  forty  when  it  began  to  pay  ten  or  fifteen  per 
cent,  dividends.  I  should  have  waited  a  few  years. 

"Bosh!"  It  was  a  father's  reply  to  a  son's  youthful 
sarcasm. 

"You  don't  have  to  bother  with  it.  I  can  sell  it  at 
a  profit.  Darrell  and  I  are  in  this  and — " 

"It  ties  up  a  lot  of  money."  Sampson  Rock's  fin 
gers  were  drumming  on  the  table.  He  did  not  like  to 
call  upon  the  members  of  his  syndicates  until  he  was 
certain  of  success.  That  way  they  were  content  with 
smaller  profits,  the  risk  being  slight.  The  half-million 
he  had  paid  out  on  Sam's  account  was  needed  elsewhere. 

"I  told  you  to  sell  my  bonds." 

"Look  here,  Sam,"  and  the  look  on  Sampson  Rock's 
face  was  not  pleasant,  "you  must  never  do  that  again. 
They  were  your  mother's.  Never  do  it  again.  Never 
dare  to  think  of  doing  it  again.  Do  you  hear  me, 
Sam?"  It  was  Sam's  threat  about  the  bonds  that  had 
made  him  honor  the  draft.  He  now  resented  the  com 
pulsion  hotly. 

"Yes,  I  hear  you.  However,  the  Austin  Iron  Com 
pany  was  only  a  side-issue,  of  not  much  importance. 
You  are  going  to  help  me  reorganize  it.  But  there  was 
something  else." 

"Another  gold-mine?"  Sampson  Rock  frowned. 
Then  he  looked  resigned. 

340 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"I  didn't  go  into  it  to  make  money,  but  to  do  a 
square  thing,  because  I  found  I  would  like  the  work." 

Sampson  Rock  now  felt  certain  his  son  had  com 
mitted  the  unpardonable  sin  of  stupidity — the  one 
thing  that  Wall  Street  never  has  time  to  forgive — the 
punishment  follows  so  quickly.  He  asked,  impatiently: 

' '  What  is  it  ?     Who  advised  you  ? ' ' 

"You  did."     Sam  looked  steadily  at  his  father. 

"Go  on,  you  silly — "  What  Rock  now  wished  to 
know  was  exactly  how  many  dollars  Sam's  inexpe 
rience  and  volubility  would  cost  him. 

"If  you  told  me  the  truth,  which  I  am  sure  you  did, 
I  can  sell  something  for  seventy-five  that  I  have  bought 
for  less.  I  have  bought  Colonel  Robinson's  stock, 
fifty  thousand  shares  at  sixty-five." 

"Fifty  thousand  at  sixty-five?" 

"Yes,  Dad."  Before  Sam  could  tell  his  father  about 
Winfree's  thirty-three  thousand  at  fifty  and  about  the 
twenty-five  thousand  in  Sydney's  office,  Sampson  Rock 
shouted: 

"Why  did  you  meddle  with  this  matter?     Why  did 
you  pay  him  such  a  damned -fool  price?     Why — 
His  face  was  flushed  with  anger.     It  showed  also  in  his 
eyes,  but  most  of  all  in  the  unpleasant  dilation  of  the 
nostrils. 

"You  think  that's  a  damned-fool  price,  do  you?  I 
suppose  that's  because  it's  only  a  little  less  than  it's 
worth  and  that  goes  against  the  grain.  I  wanted  to 
cinch  the  control  and  do  it  at  once  and  do  it  like  a 
gentleman.  You  just  try  to  get  any  stock  in  Richmond 
for  less."  He  felt  a  sense  of  hot  resentment  that  blot 
ted  out  the  thrilling  vision  of  the  Great  Work. 

Fury  flooded  Sampson  Rock's  soul  to  overflowing. 
Obviously  Sam  had  talked  not  wisely,  but  too  much. 

34i 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

The  fifty  thousand  shares  from  Robinson  was  not 
enough,  and  the  task  of  getting  the  balance  of  the 
majority  at  a  low  price  had  deliberately  been  made 
more  difficult  by  his  own  son.  The  news  had  been 
given  to  the  world  through  a  megaphone — from  his 
own  office.  And  the  son  had  taken  a  million  dollars 
from  Sampson  Rock's  pocket  and  stuffed  it  into  Rob 
inson's. 

"Ugh!"  snarled  Sampson  Rock,  his  hands  clinched. 
"Why  in  hell  did  you  think  you  had  brains ?  Why  did 
you  meddle  ?  Who  gave  you  authority  to  buy — " 

"I  did  it,"  said  Sam,  doggedly.  "That's  all  there  is 
about  it.  And  now — " 

"Yes,  you  did  it!  You  are  a  Napoleon  of  finance! 
You  ought  to  open  a  school  for  teaching  people  how 
to  do  business!  You  might  possibly  tell  me,  while  you 
are  about  it,  where  you  are  going  to  get  the  money  to 
pay  for  it.  Not  from  me!" 

Sampson  Rock  was  a  practical  financier,  wise,  cool- 
headed,  steel-nerved,  and  lightning-witted.  He  had 
wanted  what  Sam  had  in  his  possession ;  he  could  use 
it  even  now  to  advantage.  In  thinking  of  the  deal  he 
had  thought  only  of  results ;  and  of  results  not  in  more 
dollars  for  Sampson  Rock  but  in  increased  tonnage  for 
the  Roanoke.  In  the  end  it  worked  out  in  more  dol 
lars,  anyhow.  But  also  he  had  been  overworking  for 
years,  and  he  was  human.  He  had  wanted  the  stock, 
but  he  wanted  to  get  it  himself  in  his  own  carefully 
planned  way — the  way  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 
He  would  have  changed  his  plans  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  had  the  need  arisen;  but  even  then  that  would 
have  been  a  change  effected  by  himself.  It  was  not 
stubbornness,  nor  wounded  artistic  pride,  nor  the  high 
price  paid,  nor  egotism  that  made  him  angry  enough 

342 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

to  refuse  Sam's  option.  It  was  a  little  of  all  these,  but 
mostly  it  was  a  curious  twist  in  his  character.  He  was 
very  fond  of  oysters,  but  he  would  not  eat  them  unless 
they  came  to  the  table  on  a  shallow  white  dish,  very 
cold,  but  without  cracked  ice. 

A  very  wise  man  knows  that  even  wiser  men  are 
capable  of  saying  foolish  things  at  times.  But  Sam 
was  not  in  a  very  wise  mood.  He  retorted,  stubbornly: 

"If  you  want  it,  you'll  have  to  pay  me  seventy-five 
dollars  for  it  and  treat  the  minority  decently.  If  you 
don't  I'll  keep  it  myself.  And  if  I  find  I  can't  swing 
it  by  myself,  I'll  see  if  somebody  else  won't  help  me, 
here  or  in  London.  All  that  road  needs  is  brains  and 
hustle,  and  men  that  have  those  can  be  hired." 

All  his  anger  at  the  oysters  which  had  come  to  the 
table  on  the  wrong  dish  vanished.  Sampson  Rock 
was  conscious  of  Sam's  boyish  determination — and 
conscious  of  treachery  from  his  son,  his  only  son,  the 
heir  to  his  money  and  his  work.  Again  a  problem  far 
more  momentous  than  the  absorption  of  the  Virginia 
Central  confronted  him.  He  rose  and  began  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  room,  snapping  his  fingers  behind  his 
back,  thinking  of  the  future  of  that  son  of  whom  he  had 
begun  to  have  hopes.  Perhaps  the  boy  had  been  merely 
hasty;  that  came  from  inexperience.  He  had  been 
indiscreet;  that  also  might  have  come  from  inexpe 
rience.  He  might  not  be  a  hopeless  ass.  He  might 
yet  learn. 

Rock  halted  in  his  walking  abruptly  and  said  to  his 
son,  with  an  effort  to  speak  kindly: 

"Never  mind,  Sam.  We'll  see  what  we  can  do  to 
repair  your  folly." 

"Folly  nothing!"  retorted  Sam.  "I  know  better. 
Before  you  can  sell  your  own  Virginia  Central  stock  to 

343 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

the  Roanoke  you'll  have  to  buy  mine  at  my  price,  and 
you  know  it.  If  you  don't,  you  ought  to  realize  it  as 
soon  as  you  can.  I  haven't  told  you  all."  The  ob 
stinacy  that  settled  on  his  face  was  not  at  all  the  perti 
nacity  of  an  intelligent  man. 

"Don't  talk  that  way  to  me,  you  jackass!"  Samp 
son  Rock's  face  flushed  hotly  and  he  spoke  loudly. 

"I  take  after  you,  and  you  don't  realize  it  yet,"  said 
Sam,  defiantly.  "Leaving  aside  all  question  of  right 
or  wrong,  suppose  I  tell  you  that  I've  listened  to  you 
and  I've  taken  your  advice  and,  in  becoming  a  business 
man  of  your  type,  I  tell  you  right  now  and  here  that 
you'll  have  to  buy  Robinson's  stock  from  me  at  seventy- 
five,  and  more  stock  besides  at  the  same  price,  or  you 
won't  carry  your  deal  through?  What  do  you  say  to 
that?" 

"He  was  looking  at  his  father  unblinkingly,  his  face 
a  trifle  pale,  his  jaw  set  firmly,  his  hands  clinched  as 
though  they  were  clutching  the  control  of  the  Virginia 
Central  and  the  power  that  went  with  it.  There  was 
something  distinctly  unpleasant  about  his  expression. 
And  yet  he  was  once  more  thinking  of  the  Great  Work; 
and  he  wondered  if,  left  to  himself,  he  could  not  make 
Rogers  transform  the  Virginia  Central  while  Darrell 
looked  after  the  Austin  Iron  Company. 

Sampson  Rock  drew  in  a  deep  breath.  He  looked 
steadily  at  Sam,  but  said  nothing.  Of  a  sudden  he 
turned  and  walked  to  the  ticker.  He  passed  the  tape 
through  his  fingers.  The  market  was  quiet;  the  early 
excitement  had  subsided.  His  previous  orders,  given 
in  expectation  of  a  flurry,  had  not  been  executed;  there 
had  been  no  occasion  for  the  elaborate  preparations,  it 
now  seemed.  The  early;  orders  would  be  ample  for  any 
contingency  likely  to  arise  before  the  market's  close. 

344 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

He  would  leave  the  office  and  go  somewhere,  out  of 
sight  of  Sam,  whose  looks,  whose  words,  whose  very 
presence  irritated  him  beyond  calm  utterance.  It  was 
not  a  stock-market  problem  he  wished  to  think  about, 
but  one  far  more  important  for  a  man  with  an  only 
child — far  more  important  and  very  much  more  com 
mon.  He  was  calm  now,  but  Sam  would  upset  him 
again  with  his  next  sentence.  He  would  not  give  Sam 
the  chance.  It  was  better  for  him  to  leave  the  office 
than  for  Sam.  Everything  in  this  room  reminded  him 
of  his  work.  It  made  him  think  the  work  would  die 
with  him.  There  was  no  heir  to  his  work. 

It  is  always  the  human  factor  that  spells  failure  as 
well  as  success. 

He  avoided  looking  at  his  son.  Of  a  sudden  he  rang 
the  bell  for  Valentine. 

"Valentine,  tell  Mr.  Duniap  to  cancel  the  selling 
orders  in  Virginia  Central.  The  supporting  orders  in 
Roanoke  stand  as  given  out  this  morning.  I'm  off 
for  the  day." 

"Yes,  sir.     In  case — " 

"I'll  be  at  the  Ardsley  Club.  But  don't  bother  me 
unless  it  is  something  very  important." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

"I  say,  Dad — "  began  Sam.  He  was  frowning.  The 
occasion  called  for  calm  discussion. 

Rock  held  up  a  silencing  hand. 

"You've  said  enough  for  one  day.  I  don't  want  to 
hear  another  word  from  you.  You  may  possibly  suc 
ceed  in  realizing  that  your  meddling  with  my  business 
will  cost  me  several  hundred  thousand  dollars — " 

"Can't  you  think  of  anything  but  money  when  you 
talk  to  me?"  cried  Sam,  fiercely.  "Listen  to  what  I 
have  to  say,  and  then — " 

345 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

"Not  now,  damn  it,  not  now!" 

Gilmartin  entered  unannounced.  Rock  had  told  Val 
entine  to  send  the  reporter  in  the  moment  he  showed 
up.  He  had  some  Roanoke  news  to  give  out,  to  dis 
courage  what  selling  might  be  prompted  by  the  Epoch 
article. 

"There's  no  reason  why  the  Virginia  Central  deal 
can't  go  through  as  originally  planned,"  said  Sam. 
He  controlled  his  feelings  and  spoke  very  earnestly, 
unaware  of  the  reporter's  presence.  "I  can't  see  why 
the  Roanoke — " 

"I  know  you  can't  see.  You  can't  see  a  lot.  But  I 
tell  you  it  won't,"  said  Sampson  Rock,  decisively. 
But  even  as  he  spoke  he  knew  it  would.  He  would 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain.  He  would  exercise 
Robinson's  option,  but  not  until  he  was  certain  he 
could  not  do  better.  He  would  telegraph  for  Aber- 
crombie  to  come  to  New  York  at  once.  Nevertheless, 
the  father's  problem  of  the  son  and  heir  remained.  It 
could  not  be  studied  in  this  office  at  this  time. 

"This  talk  of  yours  is  not  going  to  make  Roanoke 
sell  at  par,"  began  Sam,  with  a  weak  attempt  at  con 
ciliatory  humor. 

"It  isn't  going  to  sell  there  now,  thanks  to  intelligent 
interference." 

"And  your  great  plans  for  changing  the  State  of  Vir 
ginia  so  its  own  mother  wouldn't  recognize — " 

"Oh,  you— " 

Gilmartin,  whose  heart  had  skipped  on  an  average 
three  beats  out  of  seven  while  he  was  listening,  had  a 
flash  of  wisdom — and  promptly  stepped  outside.  Then 
he  rattled  the  door-knob  and  peered  into  the  office 
before  entering.  He  precisely  succeeded  in  checking 
the  Old  Man's  expression  of  opinion  about  his  only  son. 

346 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

" Good-morning,  Mr.  Rock."  Gilmartin's  heart  was 
not  skipping  beats  now,  but  it  was  going  very  fast. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"They  said  you  wanted  to  see  me." 

"They  lied.     I  don't." 

"Do  you  care  to  say  anything  about  the  Epoch  story 
that  the  Great  Southern—" 

"What  the  deuce  do  I  care  what  the  Great  Southern 
does?  Why  don't  you  ask  Winters?  He's  the  presi 
dent  of  it." 

"It  will  hurt  the  Roanoke,  won't  it?"  said  Gil- 
martin.  The  next  moment  he  shuddered  at  his  own 
temerity.  It  was  a  waste  of  fear,  for  Sampson  Rock 
merely  scowled  and  said,  impatiently: 

"No;  why  should  it?" 

"I — well,  everybody  says — " 

"Everybody  is  always  right,"  interrupted  Sampson 
Rock,  sarcastically.  Gilmartin  had  never  seen  the 
Old  Man  in  such  a  mood.  Even  without  the  evidence 
of  his  ears  he  would  have  known  the  Roanoke  deal  was 
off,  from  the  Old  Man's  manner.  The  Old  Man  had 
tried  and  failed.  Failure  might  possess  the  charm  of 
novelty  to  the  great  and  successful  Sampson  Rock; 
but  it  had  not  made  the  great  and  successful  Sampson 
Rock  amiable. 

"Doesn't  that  mean  the  Roanoke  deal  you  told  me 
about  is  off?"  asked  Gilmartin,  regardless  of  conse 
quences.  There  was  about  four  or  five  hundred  dollars 
profit  in  the  two  hundred  shares  the  Old  Man,  in  a 
more  amiable  mood,  had  bought  for  him  the  day  before. 

"You  certainly  have  a  nerve,  Gilmartin,"  said  Rock, 
with  an  admiring  sneer.  "You'll  be  running  my  busi 
ness  for  me  next  week.  Since  I  have  no  secrets  from 
you,  Gilmartin,  you  might  as  well  begin  at  once.  I'll 

*3  347 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

leave  you  in  charge  of  my  son.  He  needs  a  nice,  dis 
creet  man  for  confidential  adviser.  I  won't  be  home 
to  dinner,  Sam." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Dad!"  exclaimed  Sam,  hastily. 

But  Sampson  Rock  went  out.  Captain  of  finance 
though  he  was,  he  slammed  the  door. 

Sam  approached  the  ticker  almost  mechanically. 
He  was  still  dazed  by  his  father's  anger  and  his  own 
resentment,  and  puzzled  at  the  unbusiness-like  refusal 
to  hear  the  whole  story.  His  father  might  have  hag 
gled  as  to  price;  and  Sam  would  have  turned  the  op 
tion  over  at  cost.  But  anger  at  having  to  pay  a  fair 
price — that  did  not  accord  with  his  new  conception  of 
Sampson  Rock's  character  and  business  hopes.  His 
father  had  ninety  thousand  shares  of  Virginia  Central 
and  Sam  one  hundred  and  eight  thousand — that  was 
more  than  enough.  And  the  deal;  the  doing  of  the 
thing — that  was  the  thing,  not  the  money.  Was  the 
deal  definitely  off.  If  so,  what  was  to  be  done  ?  He 
racked  his  mind  for  an  answer.  None  came. 

The  thought  of  the  possible  loss  of  his  money  never 
occurred  to  him.  It  was  how  to  develop  Austin  Coun 
ty's  resources,  how  to  make  the  Virginia  Central  as 
good  a  railroad  as  the  Roanoke,  With  money  he  could 
do  it — his  jaws  were  tightly  set  as  he  thought — but  he 
was  without  capital.  He  must  induce  his  father  to 
help.  He  began  to  say  to  himself  now  what  he  should 
have  said  to  Sampson  Rock — what  he  would  say  that 
night  at  home.  His  father  would  listen;  he  felt  cer 
tain  of  it.  The  Great  Work  could  not  be  sacrificed. 
He  would  compel  Sampson  Rock  to  help,  for  the  Vir 
ginia  Central  must  be  changed  into  a  second  Roanoke! 
He  drew  in  a  deep  breath,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  tape 
unseeingly. 

348 


XXV 

"  71  /IK.  ROCK,"  said  Gilmartin,  courageously,  as  he 
1 V 1  approached  at  one  and  the  same  time  Sam  and 
the  ticker,  "could  you  tell  me  anything  more  about 
the  matter?" 

Sam  turned  to  the  reporter. 

"About  what  matter?"  he  asked.  "I've  just  come 
back  from  the  South."  He  saw  the  look  that  irre- 
pressibly  flashed  in  Gilmartin's  eyes,  and,  remembering 
whose  son  he  was,  he  added,  calmly,  "I  am  interested 
in  an  iron  property  down  there." 

The  evasion  was  too  obvious;  but  Gilmartin  did  not 
again  betray  himself.  He  remarked,  casually,  with  a 
faint  air  of  being  in  the  confidence  of  Sampson  Rock, 
ST.: 

"  Do  you  know,  I  felt  certain  that  the  Roanoke  would 
gobble  up  the  Virginia  Central."  He  looked  at  young 
Rock  sympathetically,  making  the  Roanoke  a  family 
affair,  and  its  failures  a  matter  of  personal  regret. 

"Yes?"  said  Sam,  very  politely.  One  thing  was  for 
him  to  disagree  with  his  father;  another  to  help  his 
father's  foes  by  telling  anything  to  reporters.  He  add 
ed,  to  throw  this  hound  off  the  scent,  "What  would 
the  Roanoke  do  with  the  Virginia  Central?" 

"What?"  echoed  Gilmartin.  "For  one  thing,  it 
would  cut  the  gizzard  out  of  the  Great  Southern!  To 
check  the  Great  Southern  expansion  in  competitive 

349 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL    STREET 

territory  alone  would  make  Roanoke  sell  at  par." 
Jupiter,  head-god  and  railroad  expert,  had  spoken. 
If  Sam's  ignorance  was  feigned  he  would  now  realize 
its  uselessness.  If  it  was  real  he  would  be  enlightened. 
Attempts  to  deceive  were  vain. 

"Roanoke  will  do  that  some  day,  anyhow,"  said 
Sam.  He  elected  himself  the  mouth-piece  of  the  stock- 
market,  and  confidently  added,  "With  or  without  the 
Virginia  Central." 

Gilmartin  was  tip-proof  by  now.  He  said,  as  if 
soliloquizing: 

"The  question  is,  can  the  Roanoke  get  the  Virginia 
Central?"  He  frowned,  strainingly,  as  if  he  were  try 
ing  to  read  the  answer  in  his  own  brain. 

"That's  the  question,"  acquiesced  Sam,  very  amia 
bly,  because  he  saw  his  way  clear  enough  now.  "Yes, 
Mr.  Gilmartin,  that  is  the  question.  And  you'd  better 
ask  it  of  Colonel  Robinson.  He's  a  very  truthful  man. 
Ask  him  if  he  will  sell  his  holdings."  The  spirit  of 
Sampson  Rock  passed  into  him  uninvited;  it  simply 
came.  It  made  him  finish:  "Even  at  one  hundred 
dollars  a  share." 

Gilmartin,  not  fearing  the  youngster,  ventured,  "If 
the  Great  Southern  offers  him  more  than  the  Roanoke, 
I'll  bet  he—" 

"Don't  bet,  Mr.  Gilmartin,  unless  you  are  absolutely 
certain  you  will  win.  But  there  is  no  absolutely  safe 
bet  in  this  world.  I  used  to  think  there  was;  but 
horses  are  so  uncertain!  I  don't  know  whether  the 
Great  Southern  can  gather  up  enough  Virginia  Central 
stock  to  give  it  the  control,  but  I  am  inclined  to  doubt 
it.  I  think  if  they  try  they  will  soon  tell  you  that 
yours  is  no  safe  bet."  Sam  was  speaking  with  a  sort 
of  ingenuous  wisdom — the  wisdom  of  a  rich  man's  son 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

playing  at  business.  It  was  almost  sinful  to  take 
advantage  of  this  boy,  Gilmartin  thought.  But  busi 
ness  was  business,  no  matter  who  played  it.  He  was 
no  eleemosynary  institution,  even  if  he  was  a  reporter, 
for  on  the  two  hundred  shares  of  Roanoke  which  the 
boy's  father  had  given  him  there  was  a  nice  little  paper 
profit.  Should  that  profit  be  taken?  The  answer  de 
pended  on  the  deal,  its  success  or  its  failure.  He  would 
not  overstay  the  market  in  Roanoke  as  he  had  in  Vir 
ginia  Central.  He  said: 

"Then  you  don't  think  the  control  of  the  Virginia 
Central  has  passed  to  another  road?"  His  manner 
invitingly  showed  that  he  himself  did  not  believe  it 
had. 

"Not  that  /  know  of,"  answered  Sam,  from  the 
ticker,  without  looking  up,  as  he  had  seen  his  father 
speak.  "But,  really,  I  don't  think  it's  such  an  im 
portant  matter.  The  Roanoke,"  he  explained,  thrilled 
with  the  beautiful,  misleading  words  that  came  to  him 
and  gave  him  a  sense  of  loyalty  to  his  father  and  of 
progress  in  the  Great  Work,  "has  got  along  very  nicely 
without  the  Virginia  Central  so  far.  I've  just  gone 
over  the  Roanoke.  It's  in  fine  shape." 

It  was  as  plain  as  day  to  Gilmartin  that  the  Roanoke 
crowd  had  tried  to  get  the  Central  and  had  failed,  to 
their  great  chagrin  and  financial  damage.  Now,  unless 
the  Great  Southern  had  secured  the  Virginia  Central, 
it  probably  would  do  to  sell  Virginia  Central  stock 
short  again.  But  it  was  as  certain  as  anything  could 
be  that  to  sell  Roanoke  short  now  was  the  twin-brother 
of  getting  money  for  the  asking.  He  saw  very  dis- 
stinctly  what  wisdom  consisted  of.  He  was  poor,  and 
it  was  no  seventh  heaven  worrying  about  the  rent. 
This  was  the  2oth  of  the  month,  too. 

351 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Rock.     Good-morning." 

"You  must  not  say  I  said  anything,"  said  Sam.  He 
felt  it  wise  to  look  uneasy.  "I  don't  think  my  father 
would  like  me  to  speak  to  any  one  about  Roanoke. 
It's  a  very  fine  stock,  you  know.  I  think  it  will  go 
to  par."  It  was  his  very  obvious  over-eagerness  to 
impress  Gilmartin  that  made  his  words  unconvincing 
to  the  reporter.  He  was  a  pleasant-spoken  youngster, 
and  so  deep — about  half  an  inch.  Gilmartin  felt  him 
self  so  much  cleverer  than  Sam  that  he  liked  Sam. 

1 '  I  hope  so."  He  spoke  very  gently  and  reassuringly. 
"Of  course,  Mr.  Rock,  I  sha'n't  repeat  anything  you've 
told  me.  If  I  hear  anything  of  interest  I'll  come  in 
and  tell  you." 

"That  will  be  very  nice  of  you,  I'm  sure/  said  Sam, 
with  a  grateful  smile. 

" He's  pie,"  thought  Gilmartin.  "I'll  cultivate  him." 
He  told  Valentine  to  sell  out  his  two  hundred  Roanoke 
and  waited  for  the  report  of  the  sale.  Rock  might  be 
angry  when  he  read  what  Gilmartin  would  print  about 
the  Roanoke,  and  Gilmartin  was  taking  no  chances. 
Captains  of  finance  might  "welsh"  just  out  of  spite. 
The  stock  was  sold  at  eighty-one  and  five-eighths. 
With  the  memorandum  of  the  sale  safe  in  his  pocket 
and  the  promise  of  Valentine  to  send  him  a  check,  he 
hastened  away,  not  to  print  his  suspicions,  but  to  see 
Samuel  W.  Sharpe,  the  great  bear  operator,  for  Gil- 
martin  now  had  information  to  sell  as  well  as  to  print. 
The  selling  came  first.  Ho  was  a  journalistic  parasite, 
whose  industry  in  gathering  market  gossip  alone  made 
anybody  employ  him.  He  knew  that  the  average 
speculator  did  not  desire  facts,  but  gossip — "explana 
tions"  of  market  movements,  past,  present,  and  to 
come,  such  as  might  furnish  not  reasons,  but  excuses, 

352 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

for  gambling  blindly — and  he  supplied  it.  He  was  suc 
cessful.  Respected  nowhere,  he  was  tolerated  every 
where.  The  other  financial  reporters  laughed  at  his 
insensibility  to  snubs.  But  perhaps  that  very  thick 
hide  gave  him  the  entree  into  nearly  every  office  in  the 
Street,  big  or  little.  The  wise  rich  found  him  cheap; 
the  foolish  poor  were  impressed  by  his  omniscience. 

"  I  have  a  big  thing  for  you,  Mr.  Sharpe.  The  Roan- 
oke  has  been  trying  to  get  control  of  the  Virginia  Central 
and  has  failed.  The  Rock  crowd  were  so  sure  they  had 
it  that  they  started  to  put  up  Roanoke  on  the  strength 
of  it.  They  are  loaded  to  the  guards  with  it.  And  now 
the  whole  thing's  off." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Mr.  Rock  admitted  it  to  me." 

"Then  they  have  it  safe."  Being  a  "big  man"  him 
self,  Sharpe  knew  his  fellows  and  had  no  illusions  on 
the  subject  of  veracity. 

"No,  no!  Don't  be  too  suspicious  and  don't  think 
I'm  that  much  of  an  ass.  I  heard  him  say  so  to  his 
son  when  he  didn't  know  I  was  in  the  room.  I  saw 
young  Rock  afterwards.  He  told  me  the  Roanoke  did 
not  have  the  Virginia  Central,  but  that  neither  had  the 
Great  Southern.  He  didn't  know  he  was  saying  any 
thing  out  of  the  way.  I  know  Mr.  Rock  expected  to 
put  the  deal  through  this  week  and  that  it's  all  off  now. 
Robinson  wouldn't  sell  his  holdings.  He  has  refused 
one  hundred  dollars  a  share.  If  somebody  else  hasn't 
got  the  Virginia  Central,  it  ought  to  be  a  good  thing 
to  sell  that,  too,  for  the  Rock  crowd  will  have  to  unload 
what  they've  got,  now  that  they've  found  they  can't 
get  enough  to  control.  But  there  surely  can  be  no 
question  about  Roanoke  being  sure  money  on  the  short 
side." 

353 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

Sharpe  did  not  deign  to  answer,  but  walked  quickly 
to  his  desk,  took  up  the  telephone  and  called  up  7777 
Cortlandt.  On  his  face  was  the  usual  fierce  frown. 
He  was  a  financial  free-lancej  a  soldier  of  fortune  whose 
brain  was  a  great  army.  A  "trader"  on  a  large  scale, 
his  foes  called  him,  but  he  was  more  than  a  mere  plunger: 
he  was  a  stock-market  strategist  of  the  first  rank,  who 
often  made  a  million  dollars  on  the  offensive  keep  ten 
millions  on  a  long  and  desperate  defensive.  He  was 
ready  to  fight  at  the  drop  of  the  hat  and  to  gamble  on 
the  blink  of  an  eyelid.  He  chronically  frowned,  be 
cause  his  financial  life  was  never  unmenaced  for  a 
single  minute;  it  was  an  uncomfortable  existence,  his — 
to  the  other  big  operators.  The  most  powerful  leaders 
on  the  bull  side  are  never  powerful  enough  to  do  with 
out  allies.  Sharpe,  as  a  bear,  needed  none.  He  was 
the  spirit  of  the  stock-market  embodied  in  a  hyena. 
In  his  triumphs  he  snarled;  in  his  good  humor  he 
sneered.  If  he  laughed,  sardonically,  it  was  at  the 
smallness  of  the  gun  with  which  he  sometimes  battered 
down  a  seeming  Gibraltar.  Not  even  the  thought  that 
his  accumulated  dollars  represented  the  coined  terror 
of  the  multitude  made  him  smile.  He  was  suspected 
of  loving  his  horses.  Accused  of  it  point-blank  one 
day  by  this  same  unwise  Gilmartin,  he  denied  it  with 
passionate  profanity.  But  that  was  a  pose.  He  did 
love  his  horses — and  his  enemies'  money. 

"  Hello  ?  Mr.  Winter,  please — Hello  ? — Who  is  this  ? 
Tell  Mr.  Winter  that  Mr.  Sharpe  is  on  the  'phone— 
Winter? — Yes — Has  the  Great  Southern  got  the  con 
trol  of  the  Virginia  Central  ? — Never  mind  that !  Have 
you  or  haven  t  you  ? — Have  you  any  of  the  stock  at  all  ? 
— Very  well — I  understand  Rock  tried  to  get  it  for  the 
Roanoke  and  failed — Know  anything  about  it?  H'm! 

354 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

— Who  told  you  ?  Then  it  will  do  to  sell  a  little — Sell 
what  ? — Virginia  Central  ? — You  are  old  enough  to  know 
what  to  do — Yes,  I'm  going  to  sell  some — Of  course, 
Roanoke;  do  you  think  I  meant  house  -  furnishing 
goods  ? — The  market  ought  to  have  a  reaction  anyhow, 
— How  much? — Five  thousand? — Very  well;  the  first 
ten  thousand  will  be  joint  account — you  keep  your 
hands  off  it — I  don't  care  what  your  friends  do — Sure, 
tell  them  in  twenty  minutes — How  did  you  make  out 
with  your  bull  movement  in  Great  Southern? — I'm 
sorry  you  did  not  see  me  first,  before  doing  such  a  fool 
trick — Stick  to  railroad  management  hereafter — Cer 
tainly  not! — On  the  contrary,  put  up  Great  Southern — 
This  is  the  very  time  to  do  it.  It  will  make  it  look  as 
if  you  had  something  up  your  sleeve;  yes,  and  also 
some  brains  higher  up — Of  course — And,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  tell  your  broker  not  to  begin  on  Great  Southern 
until  Roanoke  starts  to  slide  for  keeps.  Yes — Good 
bye!" 

He  started,  in  his  quick,  stealthy  way,  unpleasantly 
like  some  feline  animal's,  towards  the  ticker  and  per 
ceived  the  fascinated  Gilmartin,  who  had  listened  to 
the  conversation  of  the  famous  stock-gambler  with  the 
conservative  and  respected  president  of  the  Great 
Southern. 

Sharpe's  shaggy  eyebrows  came  together  and  he 
snarled:  "What  are  you  doing  here?" 

His  eyes  took  on  a  cold,  menacing  look.  It  was  an 
habitual  trick  of  his  to  disconcert  people  who  would 
make  money  through  and  out  of  him — a  form  of  hypno 
tism  not  unlike  that  practised  on  their  victims  by  cer 
tain  beasts  of  prey,  Oriental  bullies,  and  prize-ring 
champions.  But  Gilmartin  was  too  excited  by  the 
scent  of  the  coining  dollars  to  heed  it. 

355 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

"Old  Rock  has  gone  for  the  day,"  he  said,  very 
quickly,  "and  there's  nobody  in  the  office.  This  is 
your  chance,  Mr.  Sharpe.  You  know  how  he  works. 
Probably  his  supporting  orders  are  not  for  more  than 
ten  thousand  shares  in  all.  Why,  if  this  deal  is  off 
you  can  smash  the  stuffing  out  of  Roanoke!"  He  all 
but  saw  the  smash,  in  his  excitement.  Sharpe  was  a 
wonderful  stock-market  general,  the  Phil  Sheridan  of 
the  ticker. 

"Rock  is  a  clever  man,"  said  Sharpe,  half  to  himself. 
Then  wholly  to  Gilmartin:  "He's  almost  as  clever  as 
you,  Gilmartin.  And  you  know  you're  a  wonder." 

The  lust  of  gain  made  Gilmartin  not  only  impervious 
to  Sharpe's  sarcasm,  but  preternaturally  quick  in 
divining  Sharpe 's  doubts  and  suspicions,  also  brave  as 
a  lion  or  an  equal  of  Sharpe 's.  He  retorted,  quickly: 

"And  you've  got  both  of  us  beat  a  mile!  See  here, 
Mr.  Sharpe,  I  don't  want  to  know  what  you  are  going 
to  da  with  my  information,  or  even  if  you  are  going 
to  use  it  or  not.  I  only  want  you  to  sell  some  Roanoke 
for  me.  You  always  wish  me  to  bring  you  what  news 
I  get." 

"All  right,  Gilmartin.  You  just  write  what  you've 
told  me  and  publish  it  in  twenty  minutes ;  not  one 
second  before.  I'll  sell  five  hundred  Roanoke  for  you 
at  once.  Let  me  know  promptly  anything  more  you 
may  hear." 

Gilmartin  started  for  the  door,  wasting  no  time  in 
expressions  of  gratitude  or  farewell  phrases.  Sharpe 
took  up  a  private  telephone  that  hung  from  the  wall 
near  the  ticker,  and  said: 

"See  how  Roanoke  is  and  what  buying  orders  are 
under  the  market.  Be  quick!" 

He  walked  quickly  into  the  adjoining  room  where  a 

356 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

confidential  clerk  at  an  upright  desk  kept  the  memo 
randa  of  his  operations.  There  were  at  least  a  dozen 
telephones  in  this  room,  each  in  its  individual  booth — 
so  that  the  man  at  the  other  end  of  each  line  might 
hear  only  what  was  meant  for  his  ears.  Sharpe  called 
up  one  of  his  numerous  lieutenants.  He  spoke  quickly, 
sharply,  almost  chopping  off  the  ends  of  his  words: 

"Hello?  Go  over  to  Virginia  Central  and  see  what 
you  could  get  for  five  thousand  shares  if  you  had  them 
to  sell." 

He  walked  back  to  his  office  as  the  bell  of  the  tele 
phone  by  the  ticker  rang.  The  man  he  had  sent  to 
the  Roanoke  "post"  was  reporting. 

"Well?  What?  A  thousand  every  eighth  down? 
Where  is  Dunlap  ?  Hurry  back  and  sell  five  thousand. 
Don't  give  them  away,  but  get  them  off  quickly.'* 

The  confidential  clerk  tapped  on  the  open  door  and 
Sharpe  returned  to  the  telephone-room  to  hear  his 
lieutenant's  report. 

"What  is  it?"  He  spoke  impatiently,  so  that  by 
his  voice  the  broker  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  knew 
his  chief  was  frowning.  "What?  Three  hundred  at 
forty-eight  and  one-half  and  two  hundred  at  forty- 
eight?  Nonsense!  There  must  be  more  wanted.  A 
hundred  at  forty-five?  The  specialists  are  lying  to 
you.  Very  well.  Ill  let  you  know." 

His  scowl  took  on  an  expression  of  anger  and  ma 
lignity.  Jimmy  Hopetoun  said  there  were  no  buying 
orders  in  Virginia  Central  excepting  four  hundred 
shares  on  the  specialists'  books.  It  was  a  trap,  and 
the  taint  of  the  deceit  exasperated  him  as  though  it 
were  an  insult  to  his  brain  and  to  his  unerring  instinct. 
The  Great  Southern  had  not  bought  the  control  of 
the  Virginia  Central;  the  Roanoke  crowd  had  tried 

357 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

and  failed;  therefore  Rock  had  a  lot  of  the  stock  on 
hand,  and  was  shrewd  enough  to  conceal  the  fact  by 
taking  no  steps  to  keep  the  price  up,  as  a  less  able 
man  would  have  thought  it  wise  to  do  in  order  to 
market  his  now  useless  holdings.  Instead,  Rock  was 
encouraging  short  sales  by  obtuse  traders;  they  might 
sell  enough  to  give  him  what  market  he  wanted,  or  at 
all  events  enough  to  make  them  suffer  and  thereby 
reduce  the  final  costs  of  the  retreat  to  Rock.  Sharpe 
was  pulling  nobody's  chestnuts  from  the  skilfully  con 
cealed  fire;  but  by-and-by  he  would  start  that  same 
innocent-looking  and  ostentatiously  unprotected  Vir 
ginia  Central  going  down.  He  would  distribute  a  few 
impressions  among  his  susceptible  and  over-eager  fol 
lowers.  If  there  was  no  trap  the  stock  would  break 
wide  open  and  the  followers  would  make  money.  If 
there  was  one,  he  would  lose  none. 

He  read  on  the  tape:  "RK  1500,  79^;  2000,  f ;  500, 
J;  2ooo,|;  500,  J."  It  held  fairly  well.  Other  brokers 
than  Rock's,  evidently,  had  buying  orders.  He  took 
down  the  wall-telephone  and,  without  lifting  his  gaze 
from  the  sliding  tape,  he  spoke  into  the  transmitter: 
"Sell  ten  thousand  more,  carefully,  but  quickly.  Yes, 
Roanoke!" 

He  stepped  back  to  the  ticker,  and  leaning  an  elbow 
on  a  corner  of  the  little  machine,  watched  the  tape 
unblinkingly.  Presently  there  came:  "RK  1000,  79^; 
100,  |;  1500,  J;  1000,  J;  5000,  79;  1700,  y8J;  1000, 
f;  1700,  |;  2000,  J." 

He  had  sent  his  message  to  the  stock-market  and 
his  words  were  heeded.  Other  stocks  hesitated;  then 
they  began  to  follow  Roanoke.  The  room-traders, 
vulture-like,  scented  easy  money  and  flocked  to  the 
Roanoke  post.  They  asked  for  no  reasons;  they 

358 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

sought  no  explanations;  they  perceived  with  their 
own  eyes  that  the  selling  was  more  aggressive  than  the 
buying;  therefore  the  dollars  were  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hill,  not  at  the  summit;  now  they  began  to  help 
Sharpe,  unaware  that  they  were  helping  anybody 
but  each  man  his  own  bank-account.  As  the  price 
yielded  their  hopes  became  certainties,  and  they  sold 
more  confidently,  with  the  confidence  of  men  who 
might  fire  a  load  of  bird-shot  into  an  election-night 
crowd  in  order  that  at  least  one  shot  would  lodge  in 
one  man. 

Sharpe  went  to  his  desk  and  telephoned  to  his  chief 
confidential  broker — the  man  to  whose  advice  and 
restraining  influence  so  much  of  Sharpe's  success  and 
reputation  as  a  great  stock  manipulator  and  a  marvel 
lous  judge  of  market  conditions  were  due. 

"Hello,  Jim!  I  wish  you'd  offer  down  Roanoke  for 
me  without  losing  much  stock.  I  have  a  few  thou 
sands  out.  Very  well.  Pool?  That's  all  right;  it 
will  go  down  just  the  same,  pool  or  no  pool.  You 
don't  think  so?  Well,  just  you  watch  it  and  see.  I 
understand  Rock  is  not  in  his  office.  Find  out,  will 
you?  If  he  isn't,  do  your  worst  and  have  a  man  to 
report  his  return.  I  hear  he  wanted  the  Virginia  Cen 
tral  and  there  was  going  to  be  a  great  hurrah.  Well, 
he  didn't  get  it — What's  the  odds  who's  in  the  pool? 
It's  going  down — They  can't  buy  the  entire  capital 
stock,  can  they? — Get  busy,  Jim." 

He  rose  frowning;  he  did  not  like  Jim  to  disagree 
with  him.  The  news  of  the  strong  pool — James  All- 
sopp  knew  nearly  everything  that  went  on  in  Wall 
Street — did  not  bother  him,  because  he  knew  that 
Rock's  pools  were  always  blind  pools,  the  management 
of  which  was  left  entirely  to  Rock.  He  rang  up  little 

359 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

Hopetoun.  the  best  disseminator  of  "tips"  on  Sharpe's 
staff,  the  most  skilful  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  discon 
tent  in  the  Street. 

"Jimmy,  Roanoke  is  going  down.  The  boys  can 
safely  help  it  along." 

It  was  enough;  the  boys  made  money  following  him, 
until  they  overstayed  the  market.  It  saved  him  com 
missions  in  some  of  his  bear  campaigns. 

With  Jim  Allsopp's  manipulative  orders  and  Hope- 
toun's  freely  distributed  tips  the  big  Board  Room 
began  to  boil.  Roanoke  was  the  storm  centre.  About 
that  post  a  hundred  greed-maddened  men  were  shriek 
ing — buying  and  selling,  making  money  and  losing  it, 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  And  the  price  of  Sampson 
Rock's  pet  stock  began  to  give  way,  slowly  at  first, 
obstinately,  stubbornly,  like  a  very  powerful  man 
fighting  a  crowd,  and  then  a  little  faster,  but  still  too 
slowly  for  the  mob  that  had  scented  money  and  were 
fighting  to  get  some  of  it.  It  was  down  to  seventy- 
seven  when  Gilmartin's  news  came  out  on  the  news- 
tickers,  as  well  as  on  the  pink  slips  taken  into  the 
commission-houses  by  messenger-boys,  who  darted  in 
shouting  "Rush!"  and  bolted  away  again  like  mad  on 
their  way  to  another  office  to  startle.  And  what  the 
Street  read — and  believed,  because  the  tape  corrobo 
rated  it — was: 

"There  is  the  very  highest  authority  for  the  statement  that 
the  deal  for  the  acquisition  of  the  Virginia  Central  by  the 
Roanoke,  on  which  the  recent  rise  of  the  latter  was  entirely 
based,  has  fallen  through.  The  deal  was  expected  to  carry 
Roanoke  to  par.  The  frantic  selling  by  the  overloaded  insiders 
started  the  break.  The  control  of  the  Virginia  Central,  whose 
strategical  value  and  possibilities  of  development  are  well 
known  by  railroad  financiers,  will  not  pass  to  the  Roanoke, 
but  to  another  road,  probably  the  Great  Southern.  The  plans 

360 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

of  the  Roanoke  management  were  comprehensive,  but  the  con 
trol  of  the  desired  road  was  indispensable.  This  was  not 
obtainable.  It  is  said  the  inside  pool  bought  one  hundred 
thousand  shares  in  anticipation  of  the  successful  completion 
of  the  deal.  It  is  undoubtedly  that  stock  which  is  now  being 
sold." 

Every  trader  who  was  neither  blind  nor  deaf  was 
now  selling  Roanoke  and  buying  it  back  in  fear  of  a 
rally  and  selling  it  again  because  it  did  not  rally,  until 
the  road  to  great  and  sudden  wealth  instead  of  being  a 
precipitous  mountain-path,  became  a  toboggan-slide 
with  millions  in  gold  eagles  at  the  bottom  and  shovels 
and  horses  and  wagons  close  by.  And  in  commission- 
offices,  the  men  who  were  long  of  the  same  stock  saw 
the  toboggan-slide — only  that  at  the  bottom  they  also 
saw  the  yawning  chasm  into  which  they  might  dump 
all  they  owned  in  the  world  and  to  the  chasm  it  would 
be  as  a  grain  of  sand;  so  they  merely  let  a  few  hun 
dreds  or  a  few  thousands  drop.  That  is,  they  sold 
their  stocks  and  cursed;  and  then  they  shuddered  at 
their  narrow  escape,  for  the  price  was  going  lower  and 
lower,  towards  the  bottomless  pit. 

Of  a  sudden  an  adventurous  trader  discovered  the 
defencelessness  of  Virginia  Central  and  began  to  sell 
it,  without  thought  and  therefore  without  fear  of  a 
trap — the  trap  which  was  not  exactly  the  trap  Sharpe 
had  expected,  but  was  nevertheless  a  trap  for  bears, 
by  reason  of  the  small  available  supply  of  the  stock. 

Sharpe  had  smelt  it  from  sheer  force  of  habit  of 
suspicion  or  his  wonderful  instinct  as  a  trader. 


XXVI 

DCJNLAP,  at  the  very  outset  of  the  attack,  tele 
phoned  to  the  office.  When  Valentine  told  him 
that  Mr.  Rock  was  not  in  he  returned  to  the  Roanoke 
"post"  and  superintended  the  defence  in  person.  But 
as  the  skirmish  began  to  develop  into  a  pitched  battle 
he  again  telephoned  to  Valentine  that  Mr.  Rock  must 
be  found  at  all  hazards. 

Dunlap  could  protect  the  Rock  stocks  against  ordi 
nary  drives  by  misguided  traders,  but  this  onslaught 
might  mean  more;  it  might  be  that  something  se 
rious  had  happened  somewhere  —  some  cataclysmal 
news  that  would  tax  Rock's  resources  and  abilities  to 
the  utmost.  The  stock  was  coming  from  so  many 
sources  that  he  could  not  be  comfortably  certain  it 
was  all  short  stock  from  the  room-traders.  Much  of 
it  undoubtedly  was,  and,  knowing  that  they  would 
have  to  buy  back  as  likely  as  not  from  himself,  he  took 
it  freely,  with  an  ostentatious,  good-natured  pity.  But 
his  acting  was  wasted  on  Sharpe's  lieutenants  and  on 
the  traders  in  whom  the  scent  of  near-by  money  had 
aroused  a  Berserker  rage.  Hastily  distributing  sub 
stantial  buying-orders  among  his  most  experienced 
brokers,  Dunlap  rushed  to  the  office. 

Valentine  and  the  telephone  operator  had  called  up 
Rock's  house  and  the  clubs  and  Ardsley  and  one  or 
two  offices — every  place  where  Rock  might  possibly 

362 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

be — all  without  success.  Nobody  had  seen  him.  Dun- 
lap,  rushing  hither  and  thither  in  the  office  but  never 
keeping  away  from  the  ticker  longer  than  forty  seconds 
at  a  time,  saw  that,  notwithstanding  his  doubling  of 
many  of  the  Old  Man's  supporting  orders,  Roanoke 
continued  to  decline.  He  hesitated.  Was  this  Samp 
son  Rock's  own  work  for  mysterious  reason  not  yet 
confided  to  his  old  friend  and  chief  broker?  Rock 
sometimes  did  things  first — inexplicable,  mystifying 
things — and  explained  afterwards. 

In  various  offices,  members  of  Rock's  Roanoke  pool 
also  wondered.  Sampson  Rock's  manipulation  was 
not  always  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  they  concluded  that 
the  Old  Man  was  shaking  out  somebody — whom  or 
why  they  could  not  tell.  They  paid  him  the  compli 
ment  of  thinking  of  him  in  the  same  class  with  the 
elemental  forces  of  Nature.  But  Dunlap  dismissed  the 
same  thought  as  soon  as  it  occurred  to  him.  Sampson 
Rock  was  not  doing  this ;  it  had  gone  too  far ;  the  stock 
was  too  genuinely  weak. 

Sam  had  gone  to  Albert  Sydney's  office  to  find 
Darrell,  but  Jack  was  out  and  Sam  asked  that  they 
tell  him  to  come  over  to  the  office.  It  was  a  good  time 
to  reassure  the  broker,  and  therefore  Sam  said: 

"Mr.  Sydney,  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  lot  of  business, 
I  hope."  He  added,  smilingly:  "And  I'll  see  that  my 
father  does,  too."  There  was  no  telling  when  Sydney 
might  come  in  handy. 

"Many  thanks,  Mr.  Rock.  We'll  do  our  best  for 
you."  The  broker  did  not  mention  to  Sam  that  he 
had  already  received  some  orders  from  Sampson  Rock. 
By-and-by,  when  the  two  Rocks  compared  notes,  they 
would  see  that  Albert  Sydney  was  a  discreet  broker,  a 
man  to  be  trusted. 

*4  363 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

"And  our  margin  arrangements  will  be  more  satis 
factory  in  the  future."  Sam  was  made  aware  by  the 
look  on  the  discreet  broker's  face  that  Mr.  Albert  Syd 
ney  was  taking  the  expression  of  a  hope  for  a  definite 
promise;  and  the  great  deal  had  not  been  consum 
mated. 

He  left  Sydney  and  walked  back  slowly,  thinking, 
trying  to  see  his  way  clear.  When  he  reached  the 
office  Dunlap  was  rushing  from  the  ticker  to  the  tele 
phone  and  back  to  the  ticker;  to  Valentine  and  back 
to  the  ticker;  to  the  window  and  back  to  the  ticker. 
The  moment  he  saw  Sam  he  shouted,  eagerly: 

"Where  is  your  father,  Sammy?" 

"Gone  up  to  the  Ardsley  Club." 

Dunlap  was  a  fluent  swearer — very.  Also  his  face, 
in  his  excitement,  twitched  so  curiously  that  Sam 
looked  at  him  —  with  amazement  rather  than  with 
alarm. 

"What  in  hell  am  I  to  do?"  shrieked  Dunlap,  oblivi 
ous  of  the  half-dozen  pale-faced  customers  who  took 
no  pains  to  conceal  the  fact  that  they  were  quiveringly 
listening  to  his  every  word.  "Valentine,  call  up  the 
Ardsley  Club  and  get  Mr.  Rock  on  the  wire." 

Sam's  heart  began  to  beat  more  quickly — excitement 
is  a  contagious  disease. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"Roanoke,  seventy-five!"  called  out  a  swarthy, 
black-bearded  little  man  who  sat  on  a  high  stool  be 
side  the  office-ticker.  A  flaxen-haired  boy  was  busily 
marking  the  prices  on  a  big  oaken  quotation-board. 

On  hearing  the  price,  Dunlap  said,  "Much  stock 
coming  out?"  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer 
rushed  to  the  ticker  to  see  for  himself.  What  he  saw 
for  himself  made  him  swear  again,  and  Sam  walked  up 

364 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

to  him,  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  led  him  into  the  inner 
office,  the  elder  man's  excitement  making  him  not  calm 
so  much  as  tensely  alert. 

"Come  here  with  me,  Dan,"  he  said. 

Dunlap  was  not  frightened  at  what  had  happened 
thus  far,  but  he  was  exasperated  by  what  might  yet 
happen.  He  yelled  at  Valentine,  "Telephone  to — " 

"Now,"  said  Sam,  sharply,  "what  is  the  matter?" 

Dunlap  had  run  to  the  ticker  at  which  Sampson  Rock 
should  have  been  looking  at  that  very  moment. 

"Great  Scott,  seventy -four  and  one-half;  one  quar 
ter!  Sam,  I  don't  like — Virginia  Central,  forty-two — • 
forty!" 

"What?"  shouted  Sam.  That  quotation  touched 
him. 

"Look  at  it,  seventy-four  for  Roanoke,  seventy- 
three  and  three-quarters!  I  can't  stand  this  pace 
unless —  Where's  your  father?"  He  glared  at  the 
cashier,  who  answered: 

"He  isn't  at  the  Ardsley  Club.  I've  had  it  on  the 
wire  four  times.  I  have  told  them  to  send  a  man  to 
the  station  to  meet  him  and  have  him  call  us."  Valen 
tine  imparted  this  information  self-def ensively ;  he  must 
not  be  blamed  for  Rock's  inopportune  disappearance. 
He  went  out  to  telephone  once  more. 

"There's  something  wrong!  I  ought  to  be  in  the 
Board  Room.  Why  isn't  he  here?"  Dunlap's  eyes 
were  fixed  fascinatingly  on  the  little  paper  ribbon. 
The  ticker  was  whirring  away  madly,  excitedly,  as  if 
it  rejoiced  in  its  death-dealing  task. 

"Look  here,  Dan,  the  old  gentleman  went  away 
angry  because  somebody  else  scooped  in  all  the  Vir 
ginia  Central  that  was  floating  around  in  Richmond — " 

"Why  didn't  he  tell  me?  Why  did  he  have  to  go 
365 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

away?  When  did  he  go?  What  does  he  want  me  to 
do?"  What—" 

"It's  my  doing." 

' '  You  damned  fool ! ' '  Dunlap  glared  at  him.  ' '  What 
do  you  mean?  That  you  told  somebody  we  were 
after—" 

"Keep  cool,  Dan!"  advised  Sam.  He  felt  so  cool 
that  he  could  add,  jocularly:  "And  you'll  live  longer. 
Of  course,  I  didn't  tell  anybody.  I — " 

Valentine  rushed  into  the  room.  He  told  Dunlap, 
speaking  very  quickly,  "The  Eastern  National  is  call 
ing  up  for — " 

Dunlap 's  oaths — he  seemed  unable  to  do  anything 
but  swear — made  Sam  keep  cool.  He  understood  that 
the  situation  was  growing  serious.  What  he  did  not 
know  was  that  the  bank  was  calling  for  additional  col 
lateral  on  one  of  the  firm's  loans,  not  because  of  high- 
minded  conservatism,  but  because  President  Winter 
of  the  Great  Southern  Railroad  was  a  close  personal 
and  stock-market  friend  of  President  Green  of  the  East 
ern  National  Bank,  and  had  made  a  friendly  suggestion 
or  two  about  any  big  block  of  Roanoke  stock  the  bank 
might  be  lending  money  on.  It  was  Green's  duty  to 
safeguard  his  depositors'  funds. 

"They  say,"  went  on  Valentine,  hurriedly,  "that 
they  understand  the  Virginia  Central  deal  is  off  and — •" 

' '  What  business  is  it  of  theirs  ?  Who  told  them  there 
was  a  deal?"  Dunlap  looked  furiously  at  the  cashier. 
Valentine  merely  asked,  in  reply,  "What  shall  I  do?" 

"Give  them  what  they  ask,  damn  them," said  Dunlap. 

If  one  of  the  banks  from  which  Sampson  Rock  was 
borrowing  millions  began  to  show  anxiety,  there  was 
no  telling  what  the  other  banks,  friendly  enough  in 
normal  times,  would  do  presently,  especially  as  Dun- 

366 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

lap,  in  Rock's  absence,  must  keep  on  buying  Roanoke 
without  orders,  to  keep  the  price  from  disappearing 
utterly. 

"Seventy-three  for  Roanoke!"  came  from  the  other 
room.  The  swarthy  little  man  by  the  ticker  had, 
with  malice  prepense,  shouted  it  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  and  they  heard  him  through  the  closed  door. 

"Valentine,  who's  got  my  bonds?"  asked  Sam. 
"You  or  my  father?" 

"We  have.  We  cashed  some  of  the  coupons  yester 
day  and — " 

"How  much  Roanoke  can  I  buy  with  them,  Dan?" 

"There's  a  million  of  them,  governments,"  explain 
ed  Valentine,  brightening  visibly.  "And  about  three 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  railroads.  Mr. 
Rock  always  invested  the  interest  for  you,  Sam,  and 
would  never  touch  them.  It's  a  standing  rule." 

Dunlap  stared  at  him  and  then  turned  to  Sam. 

"That's  so;  you've  got—"  He  looked  at  Sam  du 
biously.  Then,  with  a  sudden  decision,  "Well,  there's 
no  time  to  lose!"  He  ran  to  one  of  the  telephones  on 
the  long  table  and  said:  "Hello!  Hello!  Buy  ten 
thousand  Roanoke,  not  above  seventy -five.  Hurry 
up!" 

He  drew  a  breath  of  relief  and  said  to  Valentine: 
"Take  the  bonds  yourself  to  the  Marshall  Bank  and 
borrow  the  limit  on  them.  Then  notify  the  Eastern 
you'll  pay  them  off."  Valentine  knew  what  to  do  and 
how  to  hurry,  especially  now  when  the  Eastern  was  to 
know  that  Dunlap  &  Co.  had  money  to  burn.  He  left 
on  a  run. 

"Dan,  I  have  the  Virginia  Central  stock.  I've  op 
tions  on  eighty-three  thousand  shares — thirty-three 
thousand  at  fifty  and  fifty  thousand  at  sixty-five. 

367 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL    STREET 

That  stock  is  all  in  escrow  in  Richmond  banks.    How 
much's  the  Governor  got?" 

"Ninety  thousand — ninety -one,  I  think.  It's  over 
ninety  thousand." 

"I  wanted  him  to  pay  me  seventy-five  for  mine  and 
he  wouldn't.  He  was  mad  as  blazes,  and  he  said  there 
would  be  no  deal.  But  there  must,  now." 

"There  must,"  echoed  Dunlap.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Sam's.  He  was  not  thinking  of  the  future,  nor  of 
financial  subtleties,  or  railroad  development,  but  of  the 
unnerving  present. 

"And  I've  twenty-five  thousand  besides  at  Albert 
Sydney  &  Co. — " 

"Then  you  are  the  man — " 

"Yes;  that's  one  hundred  and  eight  thousand  shares, 
and  with  the  Old  Man's,  and  what  there  must  be  in 
London,  it  doesn't  leave  much  floating  around,  so 
that—" 

"Great  God!  What  a  squeeze!  If  your  father  were 
only  here!  Where  is  he,  anyhow?  There  goes  Roan- 
oke  again!" 

Roanoke,  which  had  begun  to  rally,  was  once  more 
declining.  A  rich  but  intelligent  accomplice  of  Rock's 
had  telephoned  for  his  dear  friend,  and  Valentine  had 
unwarily  told  him  that  Mr.  Rock  was  not  in  the  office 
and  he  couldn't  say  where  he  was  because  he  did  not 
know.  They  were  looking  for  him.  Therefore  the 
accomplice  promptly  sold  five  thousand  shares  —  the 
amount  of  his  holdings  in  the  pool — and  then  prudently 
sold  short  five  thousand  more.  Having  carefully  wait 
ed  until  his  orders  had  been  executed,  he  generously 
told  one  of  his  friends.  The  market  like  that  and  no 
Sampson  Rock  in  his  office  ?  Sampson  Rock  must  be 
dangerously  ill. 

368 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

The  friend  had  friends.  Sampson  Rock's  illness 
grew  more  dangerous  with  each  repetition.  It  was 
inevitable.  In  its  travels  the  inference  became  an 
assertion,  and  the  illness  ended  in  what  the  serious 
illness  of  all  great  stock  operators  always  ends.  Mill 
ions  cannot  fend  it  off  or  prayers  keep  it  away.  And 
a  few  hours  ago  Sampson  Rock  looked  so  strong! 
And  now  Roanoke  was  so  weak! 

When  the  rumor  that  Sampson  Rock  was  dead 
reached  the  Stock  Exchange  there  was  a  moment's 
hesitation — it  showed  the  intelligent  suspiciousness  of 
the  brokers.  And  then  the  real,  the  furious,  the  panic- 
stricken  selling  of  the  Rock  stocks  began.  It  was  the 
Street's  mighty  tribute  to  Rock's  great  abilities  as  a 
railroad  strategist — and  to  his  enormous  commitments 
as  a  stock-gambler. 

It  was  as  though  the  flood-gates  of  the  stock-market 
heaven  had  burst  wide  open.  It  was  the  deluge,  and 
everything  gave  way  before  it! 


XXVII 

BUT  it  was  not  alone  the  men  who  actually  owned 
Roanoke  stock  that  were  selling  it,  fearful  of 
pecuniary  disaster,  now  that  the  masterful  guiding- 
hand  had  been  wrenched  from  the  helm  by  death.  It 
was  also  the  professional  speculators,  who  held  no 
shares,  but  were  frantic  with  eagerness  to  fill  their 
pockets  with  dollars,  whether  the  dollars  thus  plucked 
from  the  grave  of  a  great  railroad  man  were  the  blos 
soms  of  death  or  not,  so  long  as  they  were  dollars. 
To  the  extent  that  they  succeeded  in  driving  down  the 
price,  to  that  extent  would  the  real  holders,  trusting 
in  -the  superior  knowledge  of  financial  ghouls,  part 
with  their  holdings — the  "real  goods" — and  then  those 
dollars  would  be  merely  the  blossoms  of  fear,  perhaps 
not  very  nice  flowers,  but  the  banks  would  receive  them, 
and  the  shopkeepers  would  take  them,  and  out  of  the 
losses  of  some  the  wives  of  the  others  would  be  made 
glad  and  gorgeous;  and  the  education  of  children  be 
paid;  and  houses  bought  and  establishments  main 
tained  ;  also  economies  enforced  in  less  fortunate  house 
holds.  If  the  price  were  hammered  sufficiently  to  cause 
genuine  panic-stricken  selling,  there  was  no  telling  what 
would  happen — with  Sampson  Rock  dead  and  his  asso 
ciates  taken  by  surprise. 

Dunlap,  as  he  saw  the  huge  blocks  of  Roanoke  hurled 
madly  at  the  market,  was  silenced.     Then  he  said: 

370 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"My  God,  Sam,  we'll  have  a  panic  here  if —  Where's 
your  father  f "  He  had  begun  with  a  whisper  and  ended 
with  a  shriek.  Sam  was  keenly  conscious  of  a  sense  of 
danger — a  not  fully  understood  danger ;  but  the  menace 
of  it  made  his  blood  tingle  and  brought  a  certain  watch 
fulness  of  mind  that  made  him  think  not  only  clearly, 
but  quickly — almost  with  the  mind  of  his  father.  He 
had  his  father's  courage  without  his  father's  experience. 
His  face  was  a  shade  paler,  but  his  jaw  was  thrust  for 
ward,  and  he  was  frowning.  He  knew  that  he  had 
money  of  his  own. 

"Dan" — he  spoke  quickly,  but  distinctly,  and  in  a 
measure  he  was  thinking  aloud — "my  father  never 
would  have  allowed  this  to  happen.  To  prevent  it  he 
would  have  bought  all  the  Roanoke  they  sold,  and 
more,  too.  And  Virginia  Central  —  if  we  buy  fifty 
thousand  shares  now  we'll  have  more  than  there  is  to 
go  around.  I  paid  sixty-five  for  the  Robinson  stock, 
because  he  wouldn't  sell  it  any  cheaper.  Understand  ? 
Now  telephone  to  my  father's  friends  to  buy  Roanoke 
and  those  who  were  in  the  deal  to  buy  Central." 

"I — I — my  buying  is  Dunlap  &  Co.  If  your  father 
doesn't  approve  I'd  be  responsible,  personally.  It 
might  mean  losses  he  wouldn't  care  to  shoulder,  and 
I'd  be  in  a—" 

"Go  on,  hang  you!"  said  Sam,  between  his  clinched 
teeth.  The  opposition  roused  him  to  a  pitch  of  fury. 
Somebody  was  trying  to  injure  Sampson  Rock.  That 
meant  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.  That  meant  self-defence; 
and  that  meant  blind  anger. 

Dunlap  blinked  his  eyes  and  closed  his  fists  spasmodi 
cally — not  at  Sam,  but  at  the  overwhelming  responsi 
bility,  painfully  aware  now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
that  he  did  not  have  Sampson  Rock's  full  confidence 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

and  that  Sampson  Rock  was  an  unusual  man.  But  the 
stock  was  going  down  too  rapidly,  too  ominously  The 
short  interest,  having  had  no  chance  to  cover,  must  be 
enormous;  to  wait  longer  was,  to  say  the  least,  to  pre 
sent  several  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  the  ghouls  as 
a  reward  for  destroying  several  millions.  Sam  might 
not  realize  the  various  questions  involved,  but  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  obey  Sam's  orders.  The 
boy  had  grasped  the  elemental  necessities  of  the  situa 
tion.  Still,  Dunlap  hesitated. 

"It's  with  my  money.  I  am  giving  the  orders," 
said  Sam.  "Go  ahead!"  And  he  pushed  Dunlap  out 
of  the  office.  Valentine  collided  with  the  head  of  the 
firm. 

"They're  all  telephoning  to  ask  about  Roanoke  and 
if  it's  true  Mr.  Rock—" 

"Tell  them  Mr.  Rock  says  to  buy  Roanoke.  I  am 
Mr.  Rock,"  interrupted  Sam,  fiercely,  impatient  at 
Valentine's  helplessness.  ' '  Go,  Dan !  Don't  you  hear  ? 
And  you,  Valentine!"  In  his  heart  there  was  nothing 
but  a  desire  to  fight  the  unseen  enemy — fight  to  win, 
and  not  to  establish  the  truth  of  abstract  principles. 

Dunlap  ran  and  Valentine  hastened  back  to  the 
telephone.  Sam  was  "Mr.  Rock."  If  any  fault  was 
found  at  the  obsequies,  he  could  prove  he  had  not  lied. 
And  fault  certainly  would  be  found  if  he  did  not  answer 
the  telephone  messages,  for  the  uncontradicted  cry  was 
heard  above  the  bedlam  noises  of  the  Stock  Exchange: 

"  SAMPSON  ROCK  is  DEAD  AND  SHARPE  is  ON  THE 
RAMPAGE!" 

They  had  been  enemies,  and  Rock  was  dead  and 
defenceless  and  Sharpe  was  alive  and  raging.  And 

372 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

Sharpe  had  money  and  brains  and  a  devilish  disposi 
tion;  and  Sampson  Rock's  broker's  office  was  like  a 
broken  engine,  still  running — but  running  without  an 
engineer,  jerkily,  erratically,  on  the  verge  of  a  final  smash. 

Dunlap's  buying — he  took  twenty  thousand  shares 
of  Roanoke  in  less  than  two  minutes — and  the  buying 
of  Rock's  friends,  who  now  realized  with  chuckles  of 
admiration  that  the  grand  Old  Man  had  connived  at 
the  artistic  simulation  of  a  panic  for  the  common  weal 
of  the  Rock  crowd — in  order  to  buy  the  pool's  comple 
ment  of  stock  at  bargain  prices — checked  the  decline. 
The  traders,  urged  by  Sharpe  and  the  lash  of  greed, 
hurled  themselves  against  Dunlap,  but  he  held  his 
ground  stubbornly,  his  face  showing  that  he  felt  the 
wall  behind  his  back.  With  Rock  to  command  him, 
he  would  not  have  fought  a  defensive  but  an  offensive 
fight,  which  is  the  best  defence.  But  to  hold  his  own 
until  the  commander-in-chief  arrived,  that  was  all  he 
hoped  to  do,  all  he  fought  for.  Let  the  commander-in- 
chief  turn  resistance  into  pursuit;  let  the  commander- 
in-chief  do  anything,  so  long  as  he  came  back  to  com 
mand. 

Sam,  impatient  with  the  slowness  of  the  rally, 
unaware  that  the  tape,  owing  to  the  volume  of  trans 
actions,  was  minutes  behind  the  market,  seeing  Ro 
anoke  at  seventy -four  —  in  the  Board  Room  it  was 
actually  selling  at  seventy-five  and  a  half — was  made 
furious.  He  ran  to  the  outer  office. 

"Valentine,"  he  shouted,  and  did  not  know  that  he 
was  shouting,  "buy  Roanoke  until  I  tell  you  to  stop!" 
He  would  not  stop  until  somebody  howled  for  mercy 
and  howled  unmistakably. 

Valentine  came  out  of  his  cage,  but  Sam  yelled  at 
him,  "Go  back  and  do  as  I  tell  you,  or  by — " 

373 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF   WALL   STREET 

"You've  done  enough,  Sam,"  Valentine  assured  him, 
with  a  white  face.  "We'll  pull  out — " 

"I  don't  want  to  pull  out!  I  want  to  teach  these 
dogs  something!" 

"Sammy,"  replied  Valentine,  "if  you  don't  do  any 
thing  rash,  you'll  make  a  lot  of — " 

"I'll  make  more  if  I  buy  more,"  he  interrupted.  He 
had  not  before  thought  that  he  stood  to  win  big  stakes. 
The  realization  of  this  now  fanned  the  flame.  How 
much  he  would  make,  or  in  what  precise  fashion,  he 
did  not  know.  Risk  his  own  money  ?  He  would  have 
risked  it  all,  unhesitatingly,  now;  even  if  his  father 
had  been  a  pauper.  To  gain  his  golden  independence, 
to  punish  those  who  would  stab  his  father's  turned 
back,  who  would  upset  the  ideals  of  the  Rock  family, 
to  punish  and  to  win — above  everything,  to  win! — all 
of  this  made  Sam  say,  fiercely:  "Go  ahead.  Buy  till 
I  tell  you  to  stop!  Use  my  bonds,  all  of  them,  and  my 
father's  as  well."  He  needed  money.  He  did  not 
know  how  much  there  was  available  now,  in  the  office. 
He  would  assume  there  was  a  great  deal.  There  must 
be  a  great  deal.  And  he  would  use  it.  He  said, 
sharply,  "Get  me  Albert  Sydney  on  the  'phone." 

"Use  the  'phone  on  your  father's  desk,"  advised 
Valentine,  non-committally.  "I'll  get  them  on  that 
wire  for  you." 

Sam  rushed  back  to  the  private  office  and  waited 
impatiently  for  an  answer  to  his  call.  Sooner  or  later 
his  father  had  said  Virginia  Central  would  sell  at 
seventy-five  or  eighty — just  before  the  Roanoke  took 
over  the  control.  It  might  as  well  be  soon.  It  might 
as  well  be  now.  For  he  and  Sampson  Rock  controlled 
the  Central  and  he  and  Sampson  Rock  were  the 
Roanoke ! 

374 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"  Hello  ?  Mr.  Sydney  ?  In  the  Board  Room  ?  This 
is  Sampson  Rock.  Tell  Sydney  Mr.  Rock  says  to  buy — 
What?  No,  I  won't  wait.  You  tell  him  at  once! — • 
Keep  away,  Central — What  ?  Oh,  is  this  you,  Sydney  ? 
This  is  Rock.  I  want  you  to  buy  all  the  Virginia  Cen 
tral  you  can.  You'll  find  there  isn't  very  much — We 
have — Corner?  No.  Take  all  they  offer  you — Don't 
pay  above  eighty — Yes,  eighty!  A  few  thousands 
ought  to  do  it.  I  tell  you,  we  have  it  safe  in  the  office! 
Above  eighty  you  can  let  them  have  one  hundred 
thousand  shares  if  need  be,  and  below  seventy-five  buy 
all  they  will  sell  you.  Certainly  not;  we  don't  want 
any  panic — I  know  all  that!  —  Oh  yes,  the  Roanoke 
will  take  it  over! — We  have  much  more  than  the  ma 
jority. — My  father's  busy. — Dead?  Somebody  else 
will  be  the  corpse! — Sure! — Don't  lose  any  time.  This 
is  your  chance  to  show  what  you're  good  for.  Good 
bye." 

As  Sam  rose  his  gaze  fell  on  the  row  of  telephones 
on  the  long  table.  They  were  private  lines,  mostly  to 
confidential  brokers.  This  Sam  knew.  What  he  did 
not  know  was  that  those  same  confidential  brokers  had 
called  up  time  and  again  in  the  last  half -hour  and, 
receiving  no  answer  to  their  calls  and  seeing  Dunlap's 
face  and  hearing  the  terrible  rumor,  had  sold  Roanoke 
short  —  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  for  if  Sampson  Rock 
was  not  in  the  office  with  the  market  in  such  a  condi 
tion  Sampson  Rock  must  indeed  be  where  he  never 
again  would  answer  telephone-calls. 

Sam  did  not  know  the  name  of  the  broker.  He  called 
to  Valentine: 

"Come  here,  quick!  How  much  Roanoke  did  you 
buy?" 

"I — er — "  the  cashier's  face  betrayed  him. 
375 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Not  a  share!     You  ass!     Whose  'phone  is  this?" 

"Meighan  &  Cross." 

Sam  took  up  the  receiver.  "Hello!"  he  shouted. 
"This  is  Mr.  Rock.  Buy  five  thousand  Roanoke  at 
the  market.  Quick." 

"That's  for  my  father,"  he  told  Valentine.  He  pointed 
to  the  next  instrument.  "Is  this  some  other  broker  ?" 

"Yes.     But  you  mustn't—" 

But  Sam  was  speaking  into  the  transmitter:  "Buy 
five  thousand  Roanoke,  right  away.  Yes — at  the  mar 
ket. — Hurry  up!" 

He  did  not  ask  whose  telephone  the  next  was,  but 
spoke — another  five  thousand  shares  to  buy — and  pass 
ed  on  to  the  fourth. 

"Not  that!"  interjected  Valentine,  quickly.  "That's 
to  Commodore  Roberts!" 

"So  much  the  better.  This  is  not  for  my  father,  it's 
for  myself,"  said  Sam.  "  Hello  ?  Commodore  Roberts  ? 
This  is  Sam  Rock,  Commodore.  Very  well,  thank  you. 
— I  called  up  to  tell  you. — Nonsense,  he's  as  much  alive 
as  I  am.  I  think  you'd  better  buy  a  little  Roanoke. 
No,  sir.  This  is  my  own  deal — my  first  offence — I've  got 
the  Virginia  Central  where  I  want  it  now  and  you  might 
make  some  money  just  to  please  me.  Don't  thank  me, 
because  I  expect  you  to  reciprocate  some  day  very 
soon. — You'd  better  hurry. — I've  got  a  big  coal  and 
iron  proposition  and —  Yes,  sir.  Thank  you!  Good 
bye." 

Sam  rose.  His  face  was  flushed.  Valentine  looked 
at  him  with  as  much  respect  as  surprise,  and  Sam  en 
lightened  him: 

"He's  going  to  buy  ten  thousand  shares  of  Roanoke, 
and  he'll  go  into  my  iron  syndicate." 

He  approached  the  ticker  and  shouted: 

376 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Seventy-eight — seventy-nine — seventy-eight  and  a 
half  —  seventy-nine  —  a  quarter  —  eighty,  by  Jingo! 
Eighty-two  for  Roanoke — /" 

A  clerk  rushed  in  for  Valentine,  who  was  wanted  in  a 
hurry  outside.  One  of  the  telephones  on  the  long  table 
rang.  Sam  answered  it. 

"Hello?  Yes.  Send  the  reports  to  Valentine. 
Sure.  It's  going  to  par.  In  about  five  minutes." 

The  farthest  bell  rang  and  Sam  ran  to  it. 

"Yes?  What,  Dan?  No.  Better  keep  on  buying. 
Commodore  Roberts  will  buy — I  just  had  him  on  the 
'phone. — He's  buying  ten  thousand  shares. — Sure. — 
Give  it  to  'em  good!" 

He  walked  restlessly  to  the  outer  office  in  time  to 
hear  the  swarthy  man  by  the  ticker  shout,  "Roanoke, 
eighty-five!" 

Valentine  rushed  to  Sam,  his  face  joyful:  "It's 
enough,  Sam.  You  stand  to  make — " 

"Look  at  this  Virginia  Central!"  shouted  the  swarthy 
man,  excitedly:  "Fifty-seven;  sixty;  sixty-three; 
sixty-seven!  Jinks!  All  hundred-share  lots — sixty- 
eight;  sixty-nine;  seventy;  sixty-five;  sixty-eight; 
sixty-six ;  seventy-one ! ' ' 

It  was  a  crazy  market;  merely  to  see  the  tape  mad 
dened  with  the  sense  of  tragedy. 

Gilmartin,  his  face  livid,  rushed  in. 

"Where's  Mr.  Rock?"  he  panted.  He  perceived  Sam 
and  asked,  gasping,  "Is — your — father — dead?" 

"Not  yet,"  answered  Sam,  calmly. 

"Roanoke,  eighty-six  and  five-eighths;  five  thou 
sand  at  eighty-seven;  a  half;  eighty-eight;  eighty- 
nine;  ninety;  ninety-one;  ninety-two!"  The  swarthy 
customer's  hands  were  shaking  as  he  guided  the  cas 
cading  tape  into  the  long,  upright  tape-basket.  The 

377 


SAMPSON    ROCK    OF   WALL   STREET 

air  was  full  of  excitement.  He  did  not  have  one  share 
of  the  stock,  but  he  saw  a  big  fight  and  was  thrilled 
without  understanding. 

"Not  yet!"  repeated  Sam,  with  an  excited  laugh. 
Several  people  entered  hastily.  One  of  them,  a  stout, 
bespectacled  young  man,  with  a  bundle  of  papers  in  one 
hand  and  a  pencil  in  the  other,  asked,  with  a  genial  smile: 

"Where's  Mr.  Rock?" 

"Here!"  answered  Sam,  promptly. 

"I'm  from  the  Planet.  There's  a  report  that  your 
father  is  dead.  He  poised  his  pencil  ready  to  jot 
down,  smiling,  an  exasperated  denial  or  a  sad  affirm 
ative. 

"Nothing  in  it,"  interrupted  Sam.  The  reporter 
wrote  nothing,  but  smiled  more  broadly  and  was  about 
to  speak,  when: 

"Roanoke,  eighty-seven;  eighty-six;  eighty-five! — 
She's  going  down  again,"  shrieked  the  swarthy  man. 

The  other  customers  stopped  smiling.  One  of  them 
went  pale — he  had  five  hundred  shares  of  Roanoke  and 
had  prematurely  bought  a  country-place  with  his  paper 
profits.  The  profits  were  oscillating,  and  his  heart 
was  set  on  that  Westchester  County  farm. 

"Valentine,"  said  Sam,  loudly,  "tell  them  to  buy 
me  ten  thousand  more." 

"He's  in  the  other  room,  Mr.  Rock,"  called  out  a 
clerk  from  behind  the  wire  partition. 

"You  give  the  order  then."  He  remembered  Har 
ding.  His  father  had  said  he  was  a  good  broker.  Sam 
approached  the  clerk  and  whispered:  "Give  the  order 
to  Harding.  Buy  ten  thousand  at  the  market,  but  not 
above  par.  You  understand?"  He  meant  Harding 
to  understand  he  must  bid  up  the  stock  to  par  if  possi 
ble  on  the  purchase  of  the  ten  thousand  shares.  It 

378 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

was  the  way  his  father  gave  orders  to  Harding.  It 
was  a  very  good  way. 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  clerk  assured  him,  importantly. 
Sam's  commands  had  been  executed  by  Valentine, 
even  by  Mr.  Dunlap  himself.  The  clerk  had  no  other 
thought  than  to  please  young  Mr.  Rock,  who  was  cer 
tainly  a  wonder — and  the  Old  Man's  only  son  and 
logical  successor.  He  therefore  quickly  telephoned  to 
Harding's  office,  and  then  he  whispered  to  his  next- 
desk  colleague  and  chum: 

"Sam's  got  the  Old  Man  beat  a  mile  at  this  game. 
He  is  a  corker!" 

"V.  C.,  seventy-three;  seventy-eight;  seventy-five; 
seventy;  seventy-seven;  eighty!" 

"The  stock's  cornered!  I  knew  it!"  yelled  Gilmar- 
tin.  The  other  reporters  pricked  up  their  ears,  ex 
cepting  the  stout  Planet  man,  who  continued  to  smile 
broadly  and  wrote,  "Corner."  That  meant  a  big  story. 
He  said,  "If  you  will  give  us  the  disgusting  details — " 

Sam  did  not  heed  him;  he  laughed  and  said:  "Oh 
no,  Mr.  Gilmartin!  No,  indeed.  Nobody  wants  cor 
ners  nowadays.  But  it's  a  nice  stock  and — " 

Sampson  Rock,  his  face  livid,  so  that  it  made  his 
gray  eyes  look  almost  black,  burst  into  the  office.  In 
his  hand  was  a  copy  of  the  Evening  Planet,  on  the  front 
page  of  which,  in  huge  red  letters,  was  the  heading: 

SAMPSON   ROCK 

REPORTED 

DEAD 
BIG  PANIC 

DEEMED   POSSIBLE 

IN  WALL   STREET 
*s  379 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

The  rumor  of  the  demise  of  the  great  captain  of 
finance  was  given  and  the  panic-stricken  selling  of  the 
Rock  stocks — Roanoke  below  seventy—was  described 
as  the  tribute  of  stock-gamblers  to  the  king  of  them 
all. 

At  the  sight  of  Sam,  Sampson  Rock  halted  abruptly. 
Oblivious  of  strangers,  he  said,  thickly: 

"This  is  your  work — yours!" 

The  look  in  his  eyes  was  not  pleasant.  But  before 
Sam  could  say  anything,  Rock  started  towards  the 
ticker. 

Sam  had  seen  conflicting  emotions  in  his  father's 
look,  but  also  ignorance  of  the  turn  in  the  tide.  And, 
remembering  the  danger  from  which  they  had  emerged 
in  his  father's  absence  and  his  own  probable  winnings 
and  Commodore  Roberts's  promise,  he  replied: 

"Yes,  this  is  my  work." 

He  spoke  with  confidence,  but  in  his  eyes  there  was 
a  curious  defiance.  It  would  take  more  than  words 
to  pry  open  his  clutch  on  the  Virginia  Central. 

"Ninety-three  for  Roanoke!"  shouted  the  swarthy 
man  by  the  ticker,  with  a  note  of  personal  triumph  in 
his  voice — as  though  he  and  none  other  had  routed 
the  born  enemies  of  the  office. 

"What?"  shouted  Rock.  He  pushed  the  swarthy 
man  unceremoniously  out  of  the  way,  nearly  making 
him  tumble  from  his  high  stool. 

" '  V.  C.,' "  read  Rock,  aloud, " '  seventy-eight — eighty- 
two — eighty-five — eighty — '  What  the — "  He  ran  the 
tape  through  his  fingers  to  make  sure  it  was  not  a 
mistake  and  to  see  how  the  rally  had  been  effected — 
in  his  absence. 

It  had  been  a  crazy  market — boys  playing  at  engi 
neers;  but,  wittingly  or  not,  it  had  been  a  great  stroke 

380 


SAMPSON    ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

— unfortunately  over-enthusiastic,  the  machinery  not 
well  oiled  and  a  part  here  and  there  strained,  but,  on 
the  whole,  successfully  lucky. 

He  turned  to  Sam,  his  eyes  overflowing  with  interro 
gations,  but,  as  if  against  his  will  as  a  human  being, 
his  habit  as  a  ticker-maniac  drew  his  eyes  again  to  the 
tape.  He  had  returned.  He  could  check  or  drive, 
he  could  direct.  He  called  to  the  cashier  without 
looking  up: 

"Valentine,  get  me  Dunlap  on  the  'phone  at  once!" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Valentine,  turning  to  a  clerk  and 
motioning  to  do  as  Mr.  Rock  had  commanded.  One 
of  the  office-boys  whispered  to  Valentine,  and  the 
cashier  approached  the  Old  Man  and  said:  "Mr.  Rock, 
Mrs.  Colly er  is  in  the  end  room — " 

Sampson  Rock  did  not  hear  him;  his  mind  was  full 
of  the  retreat  of  his  enemies,  ignorant  of  whether  what 
looked  like  punitive  fusillading  came  from  his  own 
soldiers  or  from  the  exigencies  of  a  badly  frightened 
short  interest.  Which  of  his  friends  had  conducted 
the  defence?  Or  was  it  Dunlap  alone?  How  much 
Roanoke  had  they  been  forced  to  take?  New  condi 
tions  had  been  created.  Perceiving  that  his  father 
had  not  heard,  Sam  told  Valentine: 

"Show  Mrs.  Collyer  into  the  private  office." 

A  moment  later  Mrs.  Collyer,  her  florid  face  chalk- 
white,  a  copy  of  the  Evening  Planet  in  one  hand  and 
in  her  eyes  the  fear  of  death — followed  the  harassed- 
looking  Valentine  into  the  big  customers'  room.  She 
paused  at  the  threshold  and  shouted  after  Valentine, 
who  was  going  through  the  door  of  the  partition  which 
fenced  off  the  clerks: 

"Sell  mine!  It's  below  seventy.  You  mustn't  let  it 
go  any  lower!  Hurry |  Hurry!" 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF   WALL   STREET 

She  was  not  counting  on  her  fingers.  She  did  not 
wish  to  count.  The  thought  of  what  she  would  have 
to  count,  as  soon  as  Valentine  reported,  made  her  for 
get  that  Sampson  Rock  was  dead. 

She  had  been  unable  to  get  Dunlap's  office  on  the 
telephone.  Always  "Central"  said  the  number  was 
busy.  The  last  time  "Central"  volunteered  the  in 
formation  that  there  was  great  excitement  in  Wall 
Street  and  that  she  had  heard  that  somebody  was 
dead.  Mrs.  Collyer,  uneasy  rather  than  alarmed  and 
fully  prepared  to  hear  that  Roanoke  was  climbing  at 
the  rate  of  a  thousand  dollars  a  minute,  had  started 
to  come  down.  But  Fanny  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
big  head -lines  in  the  "extra"  which  a  shrill  -  voiced 
newsboy  was  urging  the  world  to  buy,  and  Mrs.  Collyer 
read  her  death-warrant.  Rock,  she  knew,  was  dead; 
and  of  Roanoke  she  had  two  thousand  shares.  Rock 
was  dead;  poor  Rock!  Roanoke  might  be  zero  by 
now.  Poor  Rock,  but  poor,  poorer,  poorest  Mrs. 
Collyer! 

Of  a  sudden  her  nervous  glance  fell  on  Rock  stand 
ing  by  the  ticker.  Since  he  was  alive,  not  dead,  and 
she  was  alive,  but  also  dead,  she  more  rackingly  than 
ever  thought  only  of  Roanoke:  that  is  to  say,  of 
herself. 

"This  is  your  work,  Sampson  Rock!"  she  said,  with 
a  half  sob. 

Rock  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was  too  late  to  do 
anything  more  in  the  market.  There  was  therefore  no 
occasion  for  excitement.  He  pointed  to  Sam,  sternly, 
and  replied,  curtly:  "No;  his!1' 

"You,  Sam?"  she  said,  with  a  sharp,  indrawn  gasp. 
She  looked  at  Sam's  face,  which  of  a  sudden  had  been 
endowed  with  the  petrifying  power  of  Medusa's. 

382 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Rock,  walking  towards  Valen 
tine's  little  window  in  the  brass-wire  partition. 

' '  Roanoke ,  ninety-five — ninety-six — ninety-eight ! ' ' 
shouted  the  swarthy  man,  who  now  turned  to  discharge 
a  look  full  of  malignity  and  triumph  at  Sampson  Rock's 
back. 

"What?  NINETY-EIGHT?"  screamed  Mrs.  Coll- 
yer.  The  blackness  of  the  long  arctic  night  enveloped 
her.  She  stretched  her  arms  out  as  though  to  keep 
herself  from  falling.  Then  there  was  a  blinding  flash 
and  the  cry  was  torn  out  of  her  dazzled  soul:  "I  didn't 
tell  you  to  sell,  Mr.  Valentine!  I  didn't!  I  didn't!" 

Dunlap,  red-faced,  his  collar  torn  off  him,  a  fragment 
of  his  cravat  dangling  from  his  neck,  his  coat  ripped  in 
a  dozen  places,  with  marks  on  his  face  as  of  fist-bruises, 
ran  in  and  shouted: 

"Where's  Rock?" 

"Here,"  said  Sampson  Rock. 

"No;  here!"  interjected  Sam,  sharply.  "Dan,  go 
back  and  buy — " 

"Ninety-seven,  five  thousand  at  ninety-eight;  thirty- 
five  hundred  at  ninety-eight  and  a  half;  six  thousand 
at  ninety-nine!  PAR  FOR  ROANOKE!"  shouted 
the  swarthy  man.  ' '  Hooray !  Hooray-ay-ay-ay ! ' '  He 
was  not  carrying  a  share  of  the  stock,  but  he  was 
heavily  long  of  the  excitement  of  the  battle. 

The  other  customers  were  again  smiling — one  was 
dancing  in  an  abandon  of  delight;  he  had  bought  the 
country-place  with  the  profits  on  his  five  hundred 
shares;  the  floor  of  the  office  was  the  velvety  lawn; 
snow-white  sheep  would  keep  it  close  cropped,  as  they 
did  in  England. 

"Hooray!"  chorused  the  other  customers,  looking 
at  him.  Then  they  looked  at  Rock  and  became  mute. 

383 


SAMPSON   ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"You  needn't  go  back,  Dan.  Harding  did  it,  I'll 
bet,  with  that  last  order,"  said  Sam,  his  face  flushed, 
his  eyes  gleaming  triumphantly.  The  confident  man 
ner  in  which  he  spoke  of  the  broker  made  Sampson 
Rock  look  at  him  curiously.  The  problem  of  the  heir 
seemed  walking  fast  towards  a  satisfactory  solution. 
This  revived  the  sense  of  humor.  He  said  nothing,  but 
his  lips  twitched. 

Gilmartin  and  the  other  reporters  approached  Samp 
son  Rock,  and  Gilmartin  asked: 

"Mr.  Rock,  we'd  like  to  know—" 

"There  he  is,"  interrupted  Rock,  pointing  to  Sam. 

The  newspaper  men  looked  with  interest  at  the 
young  man  who — they  were  reading  their  own  ' '  stories  " 
of  the  day,  before  they  had  written  one  line — had  sud 
denly  become  famous  as  a  financier.  The  Epoch  chap 
had  already  decided  to  make  Sam  the  winner  of  twenty- 
five  million  dollars  as  the  result  of  the  day's  work. 
The  Planet  man's  smile,  though  broad,  had  a  congratu 
latory  quality  to  it  even  if  his  off-hand  estimate  was 
only  ten  million  dollars.  His  was  really  a  conservative 
paper  in  financial  matters. 

"You  may  say,  gentleman,"  said  Sam,  with  a  frown 
— a  trick  of  his  father's  that,  like  other  tricks,  seemed 
to  have  developed  in  Sammy  in  a  few  hours — ' '  that 
the  controlling  interest  of  the  Virginia  Central  Rail 
road  has  been  acquired  by  Mr.  Sampson  Rock — " 

"Junior!"  interjected  Sampson  Rock,  Senior. 

Sam  looked  at  his  father's  face;  it  was  expression 
less.  He  nodded  acquiescingly  at  Sampson  Rock,  and 
went  on,  gravely: 

" — in  the  interest  of  the  Roanoke  &  Western  Rail 
road  Company." 

Sampson  Rock  looked  at  his  son.  Then  he  smiled. 
384 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

It  was  a  sort  of  resigned  chuckle.  He  turned  his  head 
away  so  that  Sam  could  not  see  the  smile.  The  sense 
of  humor  was  full-grown  again. 

"At  what  price?"  asked  Gilmartin. 

"Mr.  Sampson  Rock,  Jr.,  will  give  out  a  statement 
for  publication  after  three,"  quickly  said  Rock,  un- 
smilmgly;  this  was  business. 

Gilmartin  could  not  wait.  He  rushed  out  to  get  the 
skeleton  news  on  the  news-ticker  and  on  his  slips;  he 
would  return  later  for  the  full  statement — and  for  for 
giveness.  Maybe  Rock  would  be  magnanimous.  It 
was  an  epoch-making  deal.  The  victor  might  want 
everybody  to  feel  happy.  He  might  desire  kindly  com 
ment  from  the  newspapers.  Gilmartin  was  ready  to 
meet  him  half-way.  He  was  even  ready  to  tell  Rock 
that  the  reason  why  he  had  sold  out  his  Roanoke  was 
to  keep  Rock  from  losing  when  the  stock  began  to  decline. 
Moreover,  Rock  had  lied  about  the  deal.  But  Gilmartin 
would  forgive  even  that.  It  all  depended  on  Rock. 

"It's  ten  after  three  now,"  said  one  of  the  reporters, 
looking  at  the  office  clock.  The  ticker  was  still  printing 
transactions — it  was  so  far  behind. 

"Closing!"  shouted  the  swarthy  man  at  the  ticker, 
climbing  down  from  the  high  stool.  "Great  day, 
wasn't  it?"  he  observed,  to  another  customer,  loudly 
enough  for  Sam  to  hear.  He  himself  had  not  made 
any  money,  but  he  knew  the  man  who  had  made  that 
great  day  so  great,  and  also  had  made  millions.  In  his 
graphic  narrative  to  friends  later  he  always  referred 
to  the  man  as  "Sammy."  The  country-place  buyer 
nodded  and  went  out  to  telephone  to  the  real-estate 
man  to  go  ahead;  no  haggling. 

"Come  back  in  an  hour,  won't  you ?"  said  Sam  to  the 
newspaper  men. 

385 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL  STREET 

"Can't  you  give  us  the  disgusting  details  now?" 
asked  the  Epoch  man.  "Mine  is  an  afternoon  paper." 

"Yes;  it's  a  very  fine  paper." 

"You  read  it  every  night  and  take  it  home  to  your 
wife,  I  know,"  laughed  the  fat  reporter,  who  knew 
other  Napoleons  of  Finance  and  several  politicians. 
"What  we  want  now  is  the  disgusting  de — " 

"No,"  laughed  Sam,  "but  if  you  gentlemen  hadn't 
killed  my  father  I  don't  think  Roanoke  would  have 
sold  at  par  to-day.  You  had  a  '  beat '  when  you  mur 
dered  him.  But  he  knows  now  what  to  do  any  time 
he  wants  to  put  up  one  of  his  stocks — just  die  in  the 
Planet.  Be  nice  and  come  back  in  an  hour,  won't 
you?"  And  with  a  pleasant  nod,  as  though  he  and 
the  "press  representatives"  were  old  friends,  he  fol 
lowed  his  father  into  the  private  office. 

"I  say,  Dad" — he  began.  Then,  as  he  saw  who 
stood  beside  Mrs.  Collyer,  listening,  wide-eyed,  to  Dun- 
lap:  "Fanny!" 

The  spirit  of  the  fight  was  over.  He  had  done  the 
right  thing,  but  he  was  not  altogether  certain  he  had 
done  it  with  a  proper  regard  to  the  commercial  side 
of  the  proposition.  He  had  made  Roanoke  sell  at 
par,  perhaps  over-precipitately.  But  he  had  sold  his 
Virginia  Central  holdings  to  his  father's  road,  after 
all.  He  himself  was  ahead  of  the  game,  and  it  was  a 
bully  fight,  anyhow.  And  he  was  glad  to  see  Fanny 
now — who  stood  there,  smiling,  still  excited  by  Dun- 
lap's  rather  technical  version  of  Sam's  victory.  Her 
obvious  interest  in  his  affairs  so  pleased  him  that,  as 
he  smiled  back  at  her,  a  great  tenderness  came  over 
him.  He  held  out  both  hands  and  said: 

"How  do  you  do,  Fanny?" 

"How  do  you  do,  Sam?" 
386 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

All  his  letters  to  her,  the  development  in  his  char 
acter  and  the  progress  of  his  business  education,  which 
she  had  traced  in  his  letters,  at  first  so  full  of  himself 
and  later  so  full  of  his  work ;  a  growing  belief  that  she 
would  share  in  his  victory,  that  she  had  shared  it,  that 
in  working  for  himself  he  was  working  for  her — these 
things  flashed  across  her  mind.  Her  eyes  were  moist 
as  she  pressed  his  hand.  A  sense  of  ownership  stole 
over  her:  this  Sam,  this  man,  this  hero,  was  to  be 
more.  .  .  .  This  was  her  victory!  And,  as  she  thought 
what  the  victory  meant,  she  blushed. 

Dunlap  had  left  Mrs.  Collyer  by  the  window  and  was 
now  talking  vehemently  to  Sampson  Rock.  At  the 
mention  of  his  son's  name  by  Fanny,  Sampson  Rock 
turned  and  called: 

"Sammy?" 

Sam  was  speaking  to  Fanny.  "I'm  fine,  Fanny. 
Did  you  get  my  letters  from  Washington  ?  You'll  owe 
me  about  twenty,  but  I'll  get  even.  What  is  it,  Dad  ?" 

"Come  here,  will  you?" 

Leading  Fanny  by  the  hand,  Sam  approached  his 
father  and  asked: 

"Well ?"  His  face  was  serious,  so  changed,  so  differ 
ent,  that  Fanny  looked  wonderingly  at  him.  Then  the 
same  feeling  of  pride  and  joy  of  ownership  came  over 
her.  She  looked  as  though  she  were  unaware  he  was 
still  holding  her  hand  and  smiled  at  Sampson  Rock. 
She  must  smile  at  somebody. 

"Now,  what  about  Colonel  Robinson's  option?" 
There  was  a  kindly  curiosity  in  Sampson'  Rock's  eyes. 

"It's  for  fifty  thousand  shares  at  sixty-five,  good  for 
six  months.  That,  I  figured,  would  give  me  time  to 
negotiate  with  you — or  somebody  else,  in  case  you 
were  unreasonable  about  it.  And  the  reason  I  paid  as 

387 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

much  as  I  did  was  that  he  isn't  such  a  bad  old  chap. 
I  didn't  have  the  heart  to  beat  him  down,  though  he 
certainly  was  a  dog  in  the  manger."  Fanny  smiled 
approvingly.  "Besides  which,"  Sam  went  on,  medi 
tatively,  "it  was  his  bottom  price,  though  he  was  very 
hard  up  and  he  knew  that  I  knew  it.  There's  so  much 
work  to  do  that  I  didn't  want  to  lose  much  time." 

It  was  Sampson  Rock's  turn  to  smile.  He  was  in  a 
forgiving  mood. 

"And  then,"  continued  Sam,  "I  had  bought  thirty- 
three  thousand  shares  from  General  Winfree,  who 
rounded  up  about  all  there  was  to  be  had  in  the  State. 
If  one  share  escaped  him  and  he  knows  it,  he'll  drop 
dead.  They  are  all  out  for  the  dust,  everywhere."  He 
smiled  as  he  thought  of  the  doughty  General's  look 
when  he  should  read  the  New  York  papers — and  the 
price  of  Virginia  Central.  "I  agreed  to  pay  fifty  dol 
lars — ten  per  cent,  down,  ten  per  cent,  in  thirty  days, 
and  the  balance  in  sixty  days.  That  was  cheap,  I 
think." 

Sampson  Rock  raised  his  eyebrows,  but  said  nothing. 
This  made  Sam  go  on  calmly: 

"Of  course,  I  had  previously  bought  twenty-five 
thousand  shares  through  Sydney  &  Co.;  that  stock 
doesn't  average  much  over  thirty-five.  That  was  the 
cheapest  stock  I  bought.  It  wasn't  quite  fair  to  you, 
but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  if  you  weren't  fatherly 
about  it  I'd  turn  it  over  to  you  at  cost.  All  I  wanted 
was  money  to  try  experiments  with,  in  case  you  de 
veloped  parsimony.  But,  since  you  look  so  very 
paternal,  I  suppose  that  you  are  willing  to  pay  a  fair 
price — enough  to  reduce  my  average  on  the  whole — 
What  ?" 

"I'll  be — ah — Where   did  you  get  the  money  for 


SAMPSON   ROCK  OF  WALL   STREET 

that?"  asked  Sampson  Rock.     His  eyelids  had  nar 
rowed  and  he  was  looking  intently  at  his  son. 

"Before  I  got  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  from 
you  I  gave  a  mortgage  on  our  house  to  Darrell,  who 
agreed  not  to  record  it  unless  the  deal  fell  through  and 
you  refused  to  help  me  out.  I  had  to  protect  him  in 
case  I  died  suddenly.  It's  a  terrible  handicap  in  busi 
ness  not  to  have  ready  cash  at  times  and  to  have  to 
borrow  it  when  you  can't  tell  a  soul  why  you  want  it." 
He  looked  at  his  father  steadily,  and  for  all  his  humor- 
ous  manner  he  unconsciously  tightened  his  grip  on 
Fanny's  hand.  The  pressure  thrilled  her. 

Sampson  Rock  rose  and,  from  sheer  force  of  habit, 
walked  to  the  ticker.  The  little  machine  was  printing 
its  usual  record  of  "bid  and  asked"  and  "high  and 
low"  prices  of  the  day,  of  academic  interest  only. 
Sampson  Rock  turned  to  his  son  and  said  in  an  even 
voice: 

"Sammy,  you  are  an  ass!" 

"Sure.  That's  how  I  got  the  Virginia  Central  stock. 
That's  why  I  had  trouble  with  Dan  at  first,  and  why  I 
put  Roanoke  to  par  when  I  got  mad  because  they  had 
killed  you  and  they  thought  there  was  nobody  to  fight 
for  you.  I  don't  know  how  you  will  make  out  with 
Roanoke  in  the  future,  when  I  may  not  be  here.  You 
will  probably  make  more  money.  When  it  comes  to 
that,  I  guess  I'm  an  ass.  But  consider;  I'm  your 
son." 

"No,  I'm  your  father,  Sammy,"  said  Sampson  Rock. 
Then  he  laughed,  but  suddenly  became  serious  again. 
Fanny's  hand  moved  nervously.  Quick  as  a  flash,  Sam 
turned  to  her  and  said: 

"Hear  that,  Fanny?" 

"Yes;  I  hear  it,"  she  whispered. 
389 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL   STREET 

"Then—" 

She  felt  her  face  burn.  She  was  grateful  when  Samp 
son  Rock  said: 

"Sam,  I'm  afraid  I'll  need  you  to  supply  some  gaps. 
Awfully  sorry  to  take  you  away  from  Fanny."  Samp 
son  Rock  smiled  at  her  apologetically. 

"It  will  only  be  for  a  little  while,"  said  Sam,  reas 
suringly  to  Fanny. 

"Mother,"  said  Fanny,  glad  of  an  excuse,  "we  must 
be  going." 

Mrs.  Colly er  came  down  to  earth. 

"Do  you  think  I'd  better  hold  for  one  hundred  and 
ten,  Sampson?"  she  asked  Rock.  She  had  given  all 
up  for  lost  and  had  now  a  forty  thousand  dollar  profit. 
Should  she  make  it  sixty  thousand  dollars,  to  offset  the 
earlier  agony  ? 

"Ask  Sam,"  replied  Sampson  Rock.  "He's  running 
this  deal." 

"I'll  let  you  know  before  the  market  opens  to-mor 
row,"  Sam  said.  Sampson  Rock  laughed  appreciative 
ly.  Fanny  looked  at  Sam  and  he  smiled  back,  boy 
ishly.  She  turned  away  her  eyes  and  Sam  looked  at 
his  father,  who  asked,  hopefully: 

"You  don't  happen  to  know  how  much  Roanoke  ap 
proximately  you  bought,  do  you?" 

"No.  What's  the  odds ?  I  think  Dan  bought  thirty 
thousand — " 

"I  know  how  much  I  bought,"  broke  in  Dunlap. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  Valentine  bought,"  said 
Sam.  "  I  told  him  to  keep  on  buying  till  I  told  him  to 
stop." 

"Of  course — "  began  Dunlap. 

"Yes;  you've  made  him  a  white-livered  coward. 
Ask  him!  I  told  Meighan  &  Cross  to  buy  five  thou- 

390 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL  STREET 

sand,  and  this  telephone" — pointing  to  the  guilty  in 
strument — "another  five  thousand,  and  this  one,  an 
other  five  thousand,  and  Harding,  ten  thousand.  I 
haven't  seen  their  reports.  I  specifically  told  Valen 
tine  that  those  purchases  were  for  your  account,  Dad. 
What  Dan  bought  around  seventy-two  and  seventy- 
four  was  for  mine,  with  my  money.  But  if  you  want 
to  divide  profits  on  yours,  I'll  be  forbearing.  Mine,  I'll 
keep."  He  smiled,  quizzically. 

"Twenty-five  thousand.  Thank  Heaven  for  that. 
I  feared  you  had  bought  the  whole  capital  stock." 
Rock  sighed  in  humorous  relief. 

"And  I  strongly  advised  Commodore  Roberts  to 
buy,  and  he  said  he'd  take  on  ten  thousand  just  to 
please  me.  He  also  promised  to  join  my  Austin  iron 
syndicate,  and — 

"Great  Scott!"     Sampson  Rock  burst  out  laughing. 

Valentine  came  in. 

"There's  a  mob  outside  to  see  you,  Mr.  Dunlap.  I 
guess  it's  the  shorts  in  Roanoke  and  Virginia  Central. 
The  afternoon  papers  say  Virginia  Central  is  cornered 
and—" 

"Go  easy  with  them,  Dad,"  said  Sam.  "I'd  rather 
not  make  a  cent  than —  He  paused  and  looked  un 
certainly  at  his  father. 

"Of  course  not,  my  son,"  said  Sampson  Rock,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone.  Then  he  added,  jovially : ' '  There's 
glory  enough  to  go  around.  You've  made  enough,  al 
though  the  Sydney  purchases  were  rather  Wall  Street y. 
Go,  Dan,  and  cheer  them  up.  Tell  the  Roanoke  shorts 
we'll  fix  the  settling  price  after  we  figure  out  how  we 
ourselves  stand,  or  they  can  take  their  chances  in  the 
open  market  to-morrow.  Don't  lend  a  share.  As  for 
Virginia  Central,  the  Roanoke  will  pay  seventy-five 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

dollars  a  share.     So  must  they,  plus  a  little  commission 
from  those  who  sold  it  short  above  sixty-five." 

"Sam's  done  pretty  well,  considering,"  smiled  Dun- 
lap.  Fanny's  face  was  radiant.  There  was  a  sugges 
tion  of  pride  not  less  than  contentment.  In  her  eyes 
was  a  light  that  came  from  other  things  than  excite 
ment.  Mrs.  Collyer's  lips  were  parted  breathlessly. 
She  was  at  the  great  Mint,  looking  at  the  machinery 
which  coined  the  hopes  that  soared  into  the  eagles  that 
did  not. 

"Yes,"  retorted  Sam,  looking  at  Dunlap,  "consider 
ing  that  you  were  scared  stiff,  I  have  done  pretty  well." 
He  turned  to  his  father  and  said,  briskly:  "As  soon  as 
the  novelty  of  your  resurrection  wears  off  I  want  to  say 
something  to  you.  There's  no  time  to  lose." 

"Oh,  rest  on  your  laurels  for  a  week!"  laughed 
Sampson  Rock.  In  his  glance  there  was  satisfaction 
and  unmistakable  affection.  Sam  was  glad  to  see  it. 
It  meant  easy  sailing  in  the  future.  It  insured  the 
success  of  the  Great  Work.  He  said,  in  a  tone  of 
raillery  that  had  a  serious  undertone: 

"I'll  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot — Austin  iron — and  I 
want  to  pay  for  the  stock  with  what  profits  come  from 
saving  your  esteemed  life  to-day.  Also,  I  might  as 
well  have  the  options  on  the  coal-lands  that  Morson 
treacherously  secured  before  I  reached  Austin.  I  want 
you  to  see  Darrell  to-morrow  and  help  us  organize 
the—" 

Sampson  Rock  threw  up  both  hands.  ' '  Don't  shoot ! 
Take  all  I  have!  Leave  me  only  these  clothes  and  a 
tooth-brush!" 

"You  might  as  well  do  it,  Sampson,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Colly er,  with  a  felicitating  smile.  She  looked  first  at 
Rock  and  then  at  Sam — the  same  smile  to  each. 

392 


SAMPSON    ROCK   OF  WALL   STREET 

"Very  well,  Sam.  Bring  Darrell,  and  we'll  talk  it 
over." 

"There's  no  talking  to  do.  You  are  here  to  listen. 
Remember,  I  am  to  make  my  headquarters  at  Austin 
while  Rogers  gets  in  his  fine  licks  on  the  old  Central. 
He'll  have  the  job  of  his  life." 

"While  waiting  for  your  train  to  leave,  suppose  you 
let  me  introduce  you  to  some  of  those  victims  of  yours 
who  are  waiting  tremblingly  outside  ?"  Dunlap  jaunti 
ly  left  the  room  to  act  as  Grand  Chamberlain. 

Fanny,  realizing  that  the  men  had  important  busi 
ness  before  them,  said:  "Mother,  what  is  home  with 
out  you  ?  I  don't  think  there  are  sleeping  accommoda 
tions  here."  She  made  an  attempt  at  a  smile,  but  in 
her  eyes  there  was  a  determined  look.  Sam  did  not  see 
it,  because  he  had  not  looked  at  her  since  he  began  to 
talk  business  with  his  father. 

Sampson  Rock  took  advantage  of  the  society  look 
of  penitence  which  Mrs.  Colly er  put  on  and  deftly 
escorted  her  to  the  corridor.  Sam  accompanied  Fanny. 
There  were  several  people  standing  outside  the  door  of 
the  office  and  before  the  elevator  shaft.  Three  news 
paper  photographers  aimed  their  cameras  at  Sam. 

"Hey!"  he  shouted.     " Don't  you—" 

The  cameras  clicked.  One  of  the  photographers 
calmly  said:  "Just  once  more,  please,  Mr.  Rock." 

"No  use,  Sam,"  laughed  Sampson  Rock,  not  un 
pleasantly.  He  was  without  personal  vanity,  but  Sam 
was  his  only  son.  "They  all  carry  accident  policies. 
This  is  what  you  get  for  being  famous." 

"Look  pleasant,  Fanny,"  laughed  Sam.  She  turned 
away  her  head  unsmilingly. 

"Here's  the  elevator.     Down!" 

" Good-bye,  Sampson.  Sam,"  said  Mrs.  Collyer,  shak- 
393 


SAMPSON   ROCK    OF  WALL  STREET 

ing  her  finger  while  she  blocked  the  door  of  the  elevator, 
"don't  forget,  my  dear  boy,  before  the  market  opens 
to-morrow — " 

"Going  down ?"  asked  the  elevator  man,  in  a  resigned 
voice. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Collyer  told  him  politely.  "Now, 
Sam—" 

Sam^was  listening  to  his  father.  But  he  turned  and 
said: 

"Very  well,  Aunt  Marie.  Good-bye,  Fanny.  I'll  be 
up  to  the  house — ah — soon."  He  added,  a  trifle  apolo 
getically,  "Just  as  soon  as  I  possibly  can." 

"Very  well,  Sam,"  said  Fanny,  quietly.  She  saw 
that  he  was  already  talking  to  his  father,  who  smiled 
as  he  listened  with  paternal  interest.  She  caught  the 
word  "Austin."  She  bit  her  lip  and  turned  to  her 
mother.  The  gate  slammed  and  they  shot  downward. 

"At  a  hundred  and  twenty-five,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Collyer,  absently,  "it  will  be — I'll  ask  Sam." 

"Mother!"  whispered  Fanny.  There  were  tears  in 
her  voice;  her  eyes  were  dry  and  very  bright,  but 
they  looked  tired.  It  was  not  until,  after  a  restless 
night,  she  saw  the  morning  papers  and  the  long  "  stories  " 
of  the  great  coup  and  Sam's  picture  that  there  came  to 
her  eyes  the  tears  that  were  the  price  of  her  victory — • 
the  same  papers  that  made  Sam  smile  before  he  began 
to  talk  to  his  father  about  the  Great  Work,  at  the 
breakfast-table. 


THE    END 


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